#Dagger squad

[incorrectdaggersquad]

Maverick: People say "But Mav, Facebook is a great way to connect with old friends"

Maverick: Well, if I want to connect with old friends I need a Ouija board.

(x)

[totallynotashieldagent]

Winner Takes All

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd/Reader

Summary: Reader is at the base to write an article, everyone's betting if Bob would get a kiss. The squad doesn't know they're already married.

Author's Note: This is part of the Brain Itch Series. Where the fics are very broken and have no start or end but stories that I just wanted out of my system.

Bob didn’t wear his ring on his finger. He always worried that he might lose it. But it was always on a chain around his neck. It was long enough that no one could see it and he didn’t like sharing about it either. Because all things considered, Bob was a possessive motherfucker who didn’t like telling anyone about you. Because what if someone got nosy and wanted to know you more? He couldn't blame them, though. You were simply that amazing.

However, when the conversation came up that there was a possibility that the current Top Gun crew was to be interviewed and their very curated achievements were to be shared with the general public, he couldn’t help but mention you. The war correspondent who had won prizes and was in the running for a Pulitzer. 

Of course, he didn’t tell how he knew you. Just that he thought you would do a good job. 

And now here you were.

Sitting in The Hard Deck, scribbling notes, watching officers around. 

The place was packed. It was bodies against bodies but no one was complaining. Everyone was dancing to a different rhythm but they all seemed to be enjoying it. You were taking in the atmosphere and writing it down in small bullets on your notepad. 

. Continue Reading. . . . Fic Masterlist.

[topincorrectguns]

Hangman: You go try to talk to him!

Rooster: Why me?

Hangman: He’s known you the longest!

Rooster: He also tolerates my shit the least. We need to send someone that he likes, someone that can get away with shit

Rooster & Hangman:

(Later)

Bob, walking into Maverick’s office: Captain, I’ve come to bargain!

[the-shedevil-writes]

B-A-B-Y (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: On a Monday morning, Rooster and Hangman bring Bob and Phoenix to a local diner, and Bob’s instantly smitten with the waitress singing along to the jukebox. Next thing he knows, “Diner Mondays” become a squad tradition… and so does watching Bob fall harder every week while the rest of the Daggers try to get him to finally ask her out. WORD COUNT: 2.7k WARNINGS: Fluff. Tooth rotting fluff. Reader wears glasses. NOTES: Yes. Like Baby Driver. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

It was an early Monday morning, and Bob was awake and ready earlier than he would’ve anticipated. He always woke up early for work, and on the weekend, out of habit. But that day, he had to wake up even earlier. Rooster and Hangman insisted on going to this diner with Phoenix and him. Bob wasn’t gonna turn down the idea of a real proper breakfast before their shifts, though he knew Phoenix was gonna be grumbling the whole time. 

He pulled up in his baby blue truck to Dot’s and Joe’s, a stout metal and red building not too far from base. The sun was just rising, and it painted the sky that sleepy light blue. Spotting Rooster’s Ford Bronco and Hangman’s Jeep, he pulled up next to them right as they were getting out. 

“Mornin’ Bob,” Rooster said. They were all dressed in their khaki uniforms, knowing they would change into flight suits once they arrived at training anyway.

Bob nodded with a small smile. “Mornin’ guys.”

Hangman stretched, “Where’s your pilot?”

He shrugged. “Phoenix isn’t a morning person.”

As if on cue, her black version of Rooster’s Ford Bronco pulled up and parked next to Bob’s truck. They watched as she got out of the car, grumbling and rubbing her eyes.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” Hangman teased.

“Shut the fuck up, Hangman. It’s too early for your bullshit.” She groaned, making the rest of them laugh. Only she would cuss like a sailor at five in the morning. “Why on earth would you guys want to do this?”

Rooster started walking towards the doors of the place, and the rest followed. “They’ve got quite literally the best pancakes I’ve ever had. It’ll be worth it.”

They all walked in, and Bob looked around the interior. It was like they had hopped into a time machine. The classic 60s look was clean and colorful, even if the outside of the building seemed a little worn down. Red leather seats and silver table tops. Warm fluorescents wrapped around a countertop bar. Old movie posters and pin-up art hung up on every wall while a jukebox played oldies by the kitchen door.

Rooster and Hangman led them to a nearby booth, and they scooched in. 

“It’s nice,” Bob said, nodding with a small smile.

Hangman chuckled, “Figured you of all people would like it. You look like you would’ve gotten your lunch money taken in Back to the Future.”

That made Rooster let out a laugh heartily enough to capture the attention of the staff, and Bob rolled his eyes. But he couldn’t help the smile. Okay, fine. That one was good. More original than his usual quips.

At the sound of Rooster’s laugh, the kitchen door swung open by the jukebox. A soft voice rang out. It was quiet enough for almost nobody in the diner to notice… But Bob sure did. A beautiful voice sang along to a song he didn’t recognize playing on the juke.

“B-A-B-Y. Baby. B-A-B-Y. Baby.” 

His head turned over to see a waitress in a pink uniform and a little paper hat. In most cases, he’d just see the waitress and be excited to dig into some food. But for some reason, at the sight of her, his heart flipped in his chest. She was beautiful. In knee-high socks and glasses that were similar to his, though they weren’t nearly as big and awful-looking as his own. She swayed her head to the song without a care in the world as she held a notepad and pencil. 

He didn’t even notice the rest of the squadron trying not to laugh at Bob’s obvious gawking. 

“See something you like, Floyd?” Phoenix asked with a smirk.

Bob’s head whipped back around. “What? What do you mean?” He asked quickly, making the rest of them laugh harder.

When the waitress spotted the table, she smiled and walked over. 

“You two again.” She said, stopping by and looking at Hangman and Rooster, “And you’ve brought friends.” She smiled at him, and Phoenix and Bob could’ve sworn his heart stopped. 

“Yeah, well, we had to share how good this place was,” Hangman said casually.

Bob looked at the nametag pinned on her top. Y/n. God, he was practically melting, and he was trying to resist the wiggly Charlie Brown smile that wanted to appear.

She tapped her pencil. “What were your call signs again? I remember thinking they were cool, but I can’t for the life of me remember what they were.”

Rooster nodded and pointed to himself first. “Rooster. Hangman. Then those guys over there are Phoenix and Bob.”

She tilted her head with a smile as her eyes landed on Bob properly. “It’s Bob? What’s your real name then?”

With his heart beating out of his chest, he stammered, “B-bob. It’s just Bob.” He wished he could give another answer. He wished that his call sign wasn’t as simple as it was or that he had some sort of cool name like ‘Dagger’ or ‘Striker’... But he couldn’t even pretend like Bob didn’t fit him perfectly.

She laughed. “I like it. I like it a lot.” 

She liked his name.

Hangman cut in, “We’ve made it stand for Baby on Board. He’s a backseater.”

“Oh, so like a WSO?” 

She knew what that was? This conversation was just getting better and better, even with Hangman’s attempts to embarrass him.

Bob nodded, barely able to speak.

“That’s pretty awesome. My dad was Navy, so I like seeing ya’ll pop up here since we’re so close to North Island.” She explained, “Well, Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix, and Baby, what can I get started for ya?”

That wasn’t his call sign, and if it was, it would’ve been more embarrassing than just Bob. But having the beautiful waitress call him Baby? He could leap out of his skin. The massive blush that spread over his face was uncontrollable. 

“Just four hot coffees to get us started, will ya, Y/n?” Hangman said

She didn’t even write it down. “Simple enough. I’ll be back.”

Bob watched her walk away, completely mesmerized. Especially as she jumped back into the song.

“Just one look- in your eye. And my temperature goes sky hi-” And the kitchen door swung closed. 

There was a silence as the three pilots watched Bob, surprised as he sat there with a dreamy look on his face. 

“Jesus, Floyd. I’ve never seen you so whipped. And you usually are by most people.” Hangman smirked, leaning back.

Once again, he was sadly snapped back to reality by Hangman. A common occurrence. “N-no. No, I’m not. She was nice.” He cleared his throat, pretending to look over the menu, “Really nice.” 

Rooster made a little ‘Aw’-ing noise. “Buddy, it’s okay! I get it. She’s super cute.” He said, trying to be supportive, but Bob quickly shushed him, horrified at the prospect she might overhear.

“And she matches your dorkiness,” Hangman added

Bob shook his head, but he had that feeling, too. Their interaction had been so limited, yet he had a feeling they’d get along perfectly. He was already completely and totally captivated by her. 

They left the diner an hour later to make it to work on time, but Bob couldn’t shake the thoughts of her that graciously occupied his brain. The whole day, even as he was driving or flying or doing push-ups, he’d hear her calling him ‘baby’. Or he’d think about how, when he put in his order for strawberry french toast, she winked at him and said that was her favorite. It was both horrifying and the best distraction he could ever ask for.

Wanting to make it a tradition, Rooster dragged the three of them back to the diner the following Monday. It was a nice thought. Start the week out with a great breakfast and end it with a Friday night at The Hard Deck. 

Bob got out of his truck and looked over at Hangman, Rooster, and Phoenix, who were already there. 

“You’re here before me, Phoenix?” He asked, confused.

Phoenix chuckled even through tired eyes, “Couldn’t miss the Bob yearning show this morning.”

He practically choked on his own spit. “What?”

“Yeah, we’re surprised you weren’t the first one here to say hi to your little girlfriend.” Rooster teased.

He let out a little exasperated breath. “Can we go in now?”

Hangman walked towards the door, “Whatever you want, Baby.” He teased back, emphasizing the name the waitress had called him last time.

For the next few weeks, they had the same routine. They would sit down in their booth, and like clockwork, Y/n would strut out quietly singing along to whatever song was on the jukebox. It was like she had a Rolodex of 50s/'60s hits. The Supremes. Marvin Gaye. Aretha Franklin. Tom Jones. Even the songs he didn’t recognize sounded like his new favorite song coming from her.

Hangman, Rooster, and Phoenix would all watch him stumble and smile up at her. His face lit up like a Christmas tree. And they would all tease him or even subtly try to hype Bob up to her. The three noticed how she seemed to pay special interest to Bob, even though he remained oblivious. They noticed how she always complimented him or would point out his glasses. There were little things- like her making his paper plate of ketchup a winky face or a heart, while the rest got stars or smiley faces. The fact that she always addressed him as Baby was more than enough to convince them. It wasn’t Bob or Baby on Board. It was just Baby. 

But Bob was oblivious. He was completely convinced that she was just being friendly because she was being paid to be. He figured that a girl like that would already have a partner, and he didn’t want to be a creep. It wasn’t like him to hit on a girl while she was working. His mama taught him that it wasn’t appropriate. 

So even as the rest of them egged him on to ask her out, he didn’t. He stayed comfortable with the small talk and stammering banter he’d make with her on those Monday mornings. It got to a point where even the rest of the squadron knew about this. Fanboy, Payback, and Coyote wanted to come with and see for themselves, but for the first time- Bob vehemently rejected them from coming. It would be obvious if suddenly there was a crowd watching him try not to turn red in the face while talking. And she deserved better than that. 

One Monday, Y/n came back out singing that Carla Thomas song again. And when she reached the table, Bob couldn’t help himself.

“What’s that song playing? You’re always singing it.” He asked

Her eyes widened, “Oh goodness, I hope it’s not too cringy that I sing while working.” She said with a nervous smile.

All of them shook their heads, looking up at her. Rooster and Hangman went back to their menus with smirks while Phoenix looked down at her phone, as if they were all letting him have his moment. His favorite part of the week. 

“No. No. I- I like your voice. I’m just wondering what the song is.” He said with his typical bashful look.

Her nervous smile upturned to a genuine one. “Oh, well, it’s Baby by Carla Thomas, but the title is spelled out like B-A-B-Y… Hey, that’s like your call sign, isn’t it?” She asked excitedly.

Bob nodded. “Kinda. Kinda yeah.”

“Guess, I’ll be listening to this song even more then, Baby.” She said, which made Hangman and Rooster look at each other with raised brows that said ‘it’s so obvious’, “I’ll be right out with your guys’ coffee.”

As she walked away, he heard “Whenever the sun don’t shine.”

The kitchen door swung shut.

“Jesus Christ, Bob, this is torture.” Rooster groaned, leaning his head back.

He looked at him, confused with furrowed brows.

“Look, Bob, I was a whole proponent of the whole don’t ask her out at work thing, but this is getting ridiculous,” Phoenix said, grabbing her menu.

“I don’t know what you guys mean. She’s just being nice.” Bob said, looking around at his friend’s exasperated faces. 

Hangman dragged his hands down his face, “And calling you ‘baby’.” 

Bob shook his head. “She thinks that’s my call sign.”

“So… she’s going to ‘listen to the song with your call sign more now’ because…?” Rooster added. 

He couldn’t deny that. It was probably the most forward thing she had done besides smile and point out they were matching every Monday because of their glasses. 

Bob shook his head. “I shouldn’t.” 

Phoenix exchanged a look with Hangman… That couldn’t be good. Those two could barely stand each other, so if they were joining forces, something was up. Bob saw their stares. 

“What-what are you guys doing?” Bob asked.

Phoenix turned to him, “If you don’t ask her out, I’m gonna have Hangman kill us in every dogfight this week. 200 push-ups each.” 

He immediately groaned and put his head in his hands. The idea of that was pure torture. Not only did that mean he’d barely get to fly because he’d be tagged out every time they did, but 200 push-ups daily for a week. Look, Bob was strong… but his shoulders and biceps shivered at the thought. 

“You’re evil. You’re literally evil.” He said, looking over at Phoenix.

Rooster tapped the table. “You’ll thank us later.”

After they all paid, Rooster, Hangman, and Phoenix all walked out, leaving Bob still lingering behind inside. He felt awkward. Like he wasn’t supposed to be there anymore because it was outside of this routine. When Y/n came back out, his heart beat so hard he thought it might stop. It had gone from zero to sixty at just the sight of her. 

When she spotted him, her eyes brightened and she walked straight towards him. He swallowed anxiously.

“Hey, Baby! What are you still doing here? Need something?” She asked smiling

Oh god. Oh dear god.

“No, no, I was just uh, I was just-” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his friends not so subtly watching him from outside the window. He scratched the back of his neck. “I just wanted to say thanks.” He nodded.

OH GOD WHAT WAS HE DOING? THANKS? A little confused, but still smiling, she nodded. “You’re welcome. Any time.”

He took a deep breath before spitting out, “I was just wondering if you’d like to… go out sometime. I- I know this isn’t appropriate when you’re working and all, but-”

“I’d love to.” Her face was the brightest he had seen it. It didn’t seem like forced hospitality. She seemed genuinely enthusiastic. “God, Bob, I was waiting for you to ask.”

He blinked and shook his head in disbelief, “You were?”

“I was worried you never would.” She said, “I’m free this weekend if you are.”

It felt like he was melting into the floor. “Yeah, yeah, I am. I’ll uh- here.”

He reached over to a table and grabbed a napkin, quickly scribbling his number on it. Handing it to her, he added, “And if you change your mind, I won’t be mad.”

She took it and folded it neatly before putting it in her pocket. “I would never.”

They stood there for a moment just looking at each other. She smiled, and Bob let out a nervous laugh. This felt like a dream, and he was still waiting to wake up. She didn’t have a boyfriend. She didn’t seem creeped out. And she had been waiting for him to ask her, despite being at work. 

“I’ll let you get back to work. I’ll see you.” He said, nodding.

“See ya soon, Baby.” She waved before going back into the kitchen.

Walking out, Bob’s legs felt like jelly. It was like he was on the aircraft carrier for the first time, and he couldn’t get his bearings. He fully wore the bashful smile now, unable to resist it. 

“So?” Phoenix asked, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk.

“She said yes.” He said breathlessly. 

[peacefxlmyko]

I need friends like the TGM cast so badly I mean LOOK AT THEM

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Could’ve Had Anyone 

famous!actress!reader x bob floyd

The San Diego sun had the audacity to shine even brighter��when she stepped out of the black SUV.

It wasn’t just that she was famous.

She was her.

The most photographed, most admired, most untouchably glamorous woman in the world. The kind of woman whose name alone could crash a website. Whose face hung in art museums and teenage boys’ lockers alike. She didn’t just walk onto the Top Gun tarmac—she graced it.

Sleek sunglasses. Designer boots. Wind-swept hair. A presence that made grown men stand straighter and forget their own names.

“Holy shit,” Hangman breathed. “It’s really her.”

“No kidding,” Rooster muttered. “Try not to pass out.”

“She’s even prettier in person,” Phoenix said, and she meant it.

And yet, when she reached Admiral Simpson, her smile was warm. Her handshake was polite, eyes steady, voice kind. She thanked everyone for the tour. She complimented the weather, said the jets looked incredible, asked real questions about the training program. For someone worth billions, she was shockingly… normal. Nice, even.

She took pictures with everyone—every pilot, every crew member, every starstruck staffer on the runway. She laughed with Fanboy. Complimented Halo’s braids. Teased Payback about trying to sneak in two photos.

And then she paused.

Eyes scanning the group again, like she was looking for someone.

Then, pointing just past the main huddle, she smiled.

“Who’s that cutie patootie over there?”

Every head turned.

Bob, who had been standing half-behind a jet wing, blinked in confusion.

“Me?” he squeaked, touching his chest like she couldn’t possibly mean him.

She nodded and beamed at him. “Mmhmm! Hi!”

She walked over like she had all the time in the world—no rush, no pressure—and when she stopped in front of him, she took off her sunglasses and stuck out her hand.

“Hi,” she said, sweet and sunny. “My name’s Y/N L/N. It’s so, so nice to meet you.”

Bob’s mouth opened and closed a few times.

“I—I’m Bob. Lieutenant Robert Floyd. It’s—um—it’s nice to meet you too, ma’am—I mean—not ma’am, I just—”

She laughed softly and shook his hand. “Bob. I love that. You’re adorable.”

He looked like his entire brain just shut off.

“I’ve been meeting so many people,” she said, still holding his gaze. “Would you mind taking a photo with me?”

His eyes went wide. “With—me?”

She leaned in slightly, teasing. “Well, you are the cutie patootie, aren’t you?”

Phoenix absolutely lost it behind him.

“Y-Yes,” Bob said quickly. “I mean, sure! Of course! Yes.”

She handed her phone off to someone nearby and stepped beside him, slipping her arm through his like they’d done this a hundred times. “Ready?”

Bob didn’t know how to be ready for any of this. But the camera flashed, and she smiled up at him again.

“Thank you,” she said softly, like he’d just made her whole day. “You were the highlight of my visit.”

And just like that, she let go, gave him one last smile, and turned to walk back toward the group.

Bob stood frozen in place, flushed from his neck to his ears, still holding his helmet like it might float away.

Hangman clapped him on the back. “The Y/N L/N just called you a cutie patootie and took a solo picture with you. You better laminate that memory, Floyd.”

“I think I blacked out,” Bob muttered.

Phoenix leaned in, grinning. “If you don’t ask her out the next time she visits, I will.”

Rooster snorted. “Like hell you will. I’m still recovering.”

Bob adjusted his glasses with trembling fingers. “Is this real life?”

Fanboy pulled out his phone. “Buddy, the whole thing’s on video. You’re gonna be a meme by tonight.”

———

“America’s Sweetheart & Her Navy Sweetheart”

“Are we sure you want this one?”

Delaney—assistant, social media manager, therapist in crisis—tilted her head at the phone screen.

The photo was perfect.

Y/N looked radiant, obviously. But it was the guy beside her—tall, glasses slightly crooked, blushing like a Victorian debutante—that made the shot so unexpectedly adorable.

The world had seen her with presidents. With Oscar winners. With the Met Gala’s best-dressed. But no one had ever seen her like this.

Smiling softly. Relaxed. Standing next to someone who clearly had no idea how famous she was—or didn’t care.

“He’s so cute,” Y/N murmured, sipping from her iced coffee, sunglasses perched atop her head. She was scrolling through the pictures again like she hadn’t already hearted every single one.

Delaney stared. “You really want to post it?”

“I really do,” Y/N said, brightening.

“Caption?”

Y/N grinned.

Delaney’s eyes narrowed. “You already thought of one, didn’t you?”

Y/N said nothing. Just passed her a post-it.

Delaney read it once. Blinked. Then grinned like a devil.

⸻

@yourusername

📍Top Gun Naval Program

✨found my wingman✨

📸: @delaneydoesit

⸻

It took six minutes for the photo to hit one million likes. Ten minutes before #cutiepatootie trended on Twitter. By lunch, “Bob from the Navy” had a dedicated fan account and trending TikTok audio.

Y/N pretended not to notice.

She was lounging in her dressing room, reading scripts, but her phone buzzed every few seconds with a new mention. Every gossip site was foaming at the mouth. Paparazzi were now camped outside the base—looking for him.

“America’s Sweetheart Gets Starry-Eyed Over Navy Boy.”

“Who is Bob from Top Gun??”

“She Can Have Anyone—and She Picked This Guy?!”

Delaney popped back in with a smoothie and the numbers. “We’ve got 47 million views across platforms and about sixteen thousand girls crying over Bob’s blush.”

Y/N looked pleased. “Good for them.”

“You planning on going back there?”

She didn’t answer right away.

But then, with a coy smile and a glance toward the corner of the room—where Bob’s photo now lived quietly on her vanity—she said:

“I might have left something behind.”

————

Bob didn’t even make it through the hangar doors before he got tackled by a wave of phones.

“BOB. BRO. BOB. YOU’RE FAMOUS.”

“Have you seen Twitter?! You’re a meme now!”

Phoenix shoved a phone into his face. On the screen was a screengrab of the photo—the photo—captioned in Comic Sans:

“me when my celebrity crush notices me and I forget how to speak English 😍”

Bob blinked. “Is that… me?”

“You’re on TMZ,” Rooster called from across the room. “Twice.”

Hangman was grinning like the cat that ate the golden retriever. “My guy. You broke the internet. You broke it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Bob muttered, cheeks already burning. “She just asked for a photo—”

“SHE POSTED IT,” Fanboy yelled, pointing at the giant screen someone had wheeled in. “With the caption ‘found my wingman,’ Bob! Her wingman!”

Payback looked personally offended. “I’ve been trying to go viral for years. This man just blushed and now he’s the Navy’s newest sex symbol.”

Bob pinched the bridge of his nose. “I—I’m not—”

“Shh,” Phoenix said, holding up her hand dramatically. “Wingman of the Year is speaking.”

“Guys—”

“No, seriously,” Rooster said, laughing, “what does it feel like to be America’s Boyfriend?”

“I’m gonna throw up,” Bob said earnestly.

Just then, Cyclone’s voice boomed from the hallway.

“Lieutenant Floyd.”

Everyone froze.

Bob straightened like he was about to be court-martialed.

“Yes, sir?”

Cyclone appeared, holding up a tablet with the photo in question still open on screen. “Would you care to explain why the Department of Defense is getting press requests for your dating history?”

Bob blinked. “I… I wouldn’t?”

Cyclone sighed, muttered something about “celebrities and chaos,” and walked off. But not before he added, “Tell her thanks for the recruiting spike.”

Everyone erupted again.

“She made you the poster boy for patriotism!” Fanboy whooped. “They’re calling you ‘Top Gun’s golden retriever boyfriend’ on TikTok!”

Bob buried his face in his hands. “This is a nightmare.”

Phoenix patted his back. “It’s a fairytale, sweetie. And she picked you.”

Bob peeked through his fingers. “Do you think… she was serious? About me being the highlight of her visit?”

Hangman, for once, didn’t joke.

“She could’ve taken a picture with anyone,” he said, voice unusually soft. “And she chose you. That means something.”

Bob blinked.

Then his phone buzzed. Again.

And when he looked down, his heart stopped.

A DM. From her.

Y/N L/N:

Hey, cutie patootie. Any chance I can come back for that second photo? 😉

Bob let out a noise that could only be described as a strangled squeak.

“Everything okay?” Phoenix asked.

He looked up. “She wants to come back.”

And just like that—chaos erupted again.

————

Bob had checked his reflection eight times before she arrived.

Phoenix had to physically take his glasses off his face to clean them herself. “Bob,” she said, “you’re fogging these up with your panic.”

“I’m not panicking,” he said, panicking.

“You’re wearing cologne.”

“It’s just—I thought I’d try something new.”

Rooster smirked. “It’s giving: ‘I’m calm, cool, and collected while my celebrity crush returns to base to maybe fall in love with me.’”

Hangman leaned against the lockers. “It’s giving: ‘he practiced what he’d say in the mirror all morning and he’s gonna forget every word the second she smiles.’”

“Thanks, guys,” Bob muttered, already red.

Then the hangar doors opened.

And she stepped through.

Y/N L/N. The Y/N L/N. Actress. Icon. Billionaire. Dressed casually like the cameras weren’t following her every move online. But what hit Bob the hardest wasn’t the press or the way the whole hangar paused just to look at her—it was the way she beelined straight for him.

Like she was looking for him.

“There you are,” she said with a grin. “Hi, Bob.”

The way she said his name—sweet and familiar, like she’d been thinking about it—nearly sent him to the floor.

“Hi,” he croaked.

She smiled brighter. “I wasn’t sure if I’d get to see you today, but I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I—I work here.”

Y/N giggled, and Bob blinked like a deer in headlights.

“You’re so cute,” she whispered, like it wasn’t going to set off every alarm in his brain.

Phoenix watched it unfold with her arms crossed and a smug grin. “We’ve been saying.”

“Oh!” Y/N turned to the others. “You’re his squad, right? You all were so sweet last time.”

Rooster elbowed Bob. “We’ve got a good one here.”

“He’s our best guy,” Fanboy added. “Smartest in the air. Saved my ass twice.”

“Three times,” Payback corrected.

Hangman chimed in, half-teasing: “Don’t let the glasses fool you—guy’s got a heart of gold and he’s low-key the funniest one here.”

Bob, mortified, ducked his head. “They’re exaggerating.”

But Y/N wasn’t listening to them anymore. Her eyes were already locked back on Bob.

“You’re kind of a hero,” she said with a soft little shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal—but it was.

“I—I wouldn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to,” she smiled. “They already did.”

Then she caught sight of a jet behind him and gasped. “Is that yours?”

Her hand reached out instinctively—like she forgot about the cameras, the audience, all of it—and wrapped gently around his arm.

“Oh my God, is that the one you flew in? That’s so cool—can I see inside?”

Bob might’ve blacked out for a second.

“You wanna see my jet?” he said, dumbly.

“I mean, yeah,” she beamed. “I came back to visit you—and, okay, maybe the plane too.”

She was still holding his arm.

“Tell me everything,” she said, leaning in. “Like—what you do in there, how it works. Please. I’m so curious.”

Phoenix whispered, “Breathe, Bob.”

Rooster added, “This is the best day of my life.”

Bob swallowed hard. “I—I sit in the back. I’m the weapons systems officer. I help the pilot navigate, track targets, communicate with command. I—uh—I read a lot of maps.”

Y/N looked at him like he’d just recited Shakespeare.

“I love smart guys,” she said softly. “You’re just full of surprises, huh?”

Then she grinned. “Show me how it all works?”

Bob blinked. “I—y-yeah. Yeah, I can show you.”

And the second he helped her climb up the ladder into his jet, the rest of the squad turned around like we are NOT watching this man fall in love from five feet away.

She actually climbed in.

Like, willingly. With a bright-eyed smile and a soft little “Oop!” as Bob offered her a hand and helped her settle into his seat—his seat, the one no one but him ever sat in—and now she was swiveling her head around like this was the most exciting thing in the entire world.

“Oh my God,” Y/N whispered, running her fingers over the side console, wide-eyed and glowing. “This is insane. I don’t even know what I’m looking at but I love it.”

Bob climbed in behind her, carefully easing into the front seat. His hands shook a little as he adjusted the straps of his harness—not because he was nervous, but because she was in his jet. Y/N L/N was literally sitting in the space he spent most of his life in, looking like she belonged there, like she might never want to leave.

“You sit back here?” she asked, pointing to the panel of screens and buttons in front of her.

“Yeah,” Bob said. “I—I manage all the tech. Radar, targeting systems, communication. Kind of like the guy behind the guy.”

She looked up, clearly impressed. “That sounds like a lot.”

“It is,” he admitted. “But I like it. It’s… it feels like where I’m supposed to be.”

Y/N smiled, this kind of soft, private smile—like she liked that answer way more than he meant her to. “That’s really cool.”

She looked at the helmet tucked beside his seat. Gently, she reached for it. “Can I…?”

“Oh! Um—yeah, of course,” Bob said quickly. “It might be a little big—”

He didn’t even finish the sentence before she was pulling it over her head with both hands and giggling as it sank just a little too far down her face.

“How do I look?”

Bob’s voice died in his throat.

“Perfect,” he said quietly.

Y/N pushed the visor up and blinked at him, and Bob almost forgot how to breathe again.

“I don’t get it,” she said after a beat, setting the helmet in her lap. “How are you not married? Or dating someone? Or at the very least, mobbed every time you walk outside?”

Bob flushed so hard he felt it in his scalp. “I—I don’t think people really notice me.”

“I notice you,” she said plainly, like it was a fact. “You’re thoughtful. Sweet. You have kind eyes. And you saved your friend’s life. You don’t think people notice, but I think you just don’t realize how worth noticing you are.”

Bob blinked. Stared. Tried not to pass out.

She smiled. “You’re blushing.”

“I—I’m always blushing,” he said faintly.

Y/N reached out, brushing her fingers gently against the sleeve of his flight suit. “I like it.”

And then—God—she just… rested her hand there. Like it was natural. Like it belonged. Like she wasn’t the most famous woman on Earth holding onto a guy who’d spent his whole life learning how to stay small.

Bob didn’t say anything.

He couldn’t.

Because her thumb was gently brushing across the patch on his arm.

And she was looking at him—really looking. Like he was someone she’d been waiting to find.

“Is it okay,” she asked gently, “if I take a picture in here?”

Bob blinked, startled. “Of course—I mean, yeah. Yeah, that’s totally fine.”

Y/N gave him a grateful smile and pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “I won’t post anything classified. Promise.”

He laughed under his breath. “You’re probably more careful than half the people who actually work here.”

She leaned back against the seat and angled the camera just right, catching her reflection in the canopy glass with all the panels glowing softly around her. A quick click. Then another. She turned slightly toward him.

“Do you mind getting one with me?”

Bob froze.

“In here, I mean,” she added quickly. “We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable—”

“No!” he said a little too fast. “I mean—no, I don’t mind. Not at all.”

Y/N smiled like he just handed her the moon. “Okay, come here.”

He leaned back slightly, trying to get into the frame behind her without knocking anything important. The proximity alone nearly did him in—her shoulder brushing his chest, her phone held high between them, her perfume subtly filling the small space of the cockpit.

She angled the phone, checked the lighting, then whispered, “Smile.”

He did.

God help him, he did.

Click.

She glanced down at the picture and beamed. “This one’s my favorite.”

Bob didn’t even ask to see it. Just knowing he was her favorite anythingmade his head spin.

The rest of the visit flew by in a haze. She climbed down from the jet with his help—thanked him again, touched his arm again, asked the others about the air show schedule, then got whisked away to meet with the base commander for a quick tour. She hugged Phoenix on her way out. Promised she’d be back soon.

But just before she disappeared around the corner, she glanced back at Bob—gave him a little wave. Just for him.

And smiled.

Bob stood there long after she was gone, helmet still tucked under his arm, lips parted like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

Phoenix came to stand beside him, arms crossed.

“Hey, loverboy,” she said. “You might wanna check your phone.”

He blinked down, startled—and saw that he already had seven missed messages. Three missed calls. Two voicemails.

Because Y/N’s assistant had posted.

⸻

📸 @delaneydoesit

✈️💋 “backseat beauty and the brains that fly it”

#TopGun #YNLN #BobNation #betterthanmaverick #callmeMrsFloyd

The post featured three pictures:

1. Y/N alone in the cockpit, head tilted playfully, sunglasses on, the helmet in her lap.

2. A shot of her and Bob together in the plane, his glasses slightly crooked, both of them smiling like they’d won the lottery.

3. A blurry candid of him helping her down from the ladder, one hand holding hers, the other steady at her waist.

The comments were already blowing up:

@selenagomez: oh she’s in love.

@pilotwivesunite: WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE WENT BACK FOR HIM

@aviationfan69: bob is all of us. we are bob. bob is america.

@ynlnupdates: can confirm she did say “he’s the cutest” out loud in front of everyone

@roosterdaddy: as a pilot and a man, I salute you, Bob.

⸻

Bob didn’t say anything.

Didn’t even look up from the screen.

Phoenix patted his back, amused. “You’re a national treasure now, baby. You better start practicing your red carpet smile.”

He was already blushing.

And somewhere across the base, Y/N was laughing as her assistant read the comments out loud, heart full, cheeks warm, and only one name echoing in her head:

Bob.

———

The hangar was quiet. Late afternoon light spilled through the high windows, casting golden stripes across the floor. Most of the squad had cleared out, letting the adrenaline of the day wear off in the locker rooms or the parking lot.

But Bob was still here. Still trying to breathe normally.

Because she was still here too.

Y/N lingered by the nose of the plane, running her fingers along the cool metal with a curious little smile, her assistant off somewhere taking calls. Her hair was up now, sunglasses on her head, and she looked impossibly cool even while doing absolutely nothing.

Bob didn’t realize he was staring until she turned.

And walked straight up to him.

“Hey,” she said softly, smiling like they were old friends. “I was hoping I’d catch you before I left.”

He blinked, managing a nod. “Y-Yeah. Still here.”

She tilted her head. “I was wondering if… it would be okay if I got your number?”

Bob stared.

Not because he didn’t hear her—but because every nerve in his body just lit up.

“My number?” he repeated, voice slightly cracked.

She nodded with a soft laugh. “You don’t have to say yes. I just— I’d like to talk again. If that’s okay.”

“Y-Yeah,” he said quickly, fumbling for his phone. “I mean—yes. Please. Of course.”

She handed him hers without hesitation.

He typed it in carefully, checking it twice. Then handed it back.

Y/N looked at the screen. “Bob Floyd,” she read aloud, smiling softly. “I’ll text you.”

He tried not to look as stunned as he felt. “Okay.”

She lingered for half a beat longer, then gave him the gentlest touch on the arm.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything today.”

And just like that—she was gone.

⸻

Two weeks passed.

No text.

No call.

No new post with his name anywhere.

At first, Bob kept checking. A dozen times a day. Every buzz in his pocket made his chest jump. But as days turned to a week—and then another—he stopped.

He just… stopped hoping.

She’s a billionaire, he reminded himself. She travels constantly. She probably forgot. Or changed her mind. Or—

Or it was just a sweet moment to her. Not… not something real.

He never said anything out loud. Just kept his head down, flew his drills, smiled politely when Hangman joked about his “Hollywood girlfriend.”

But inside?

He felt like he’d dreamed the whole thing up.

⸻

Until one night.

Bob was lying on his couch, glasses slipping down his nose, a rerun humming softly on the TV, when his phone lit up.

Unknown Number:

Hi Bob. It’s Y/N. I’m so, so sorry it took me this long to text you. Please don’t think I forgot. I’ve been to five countries in two weeks—Australia, Japan, Glasgow, New York, and now finally San Diego again.

I’ve been thinking about you this whole time.

Can I take you to dinner?

He read it twice.

Three times.

Then let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

His fingers hovered above the screen.

Then, finally—

Bob:

You had me worried.

A minute passed.

Then:

Y/N:

I know. I’m sorry.

Let me make it up to you?

And just like that…

Hope came roaring back.

———

Bob had never gotten dressed so slowly and so nervously in his life.

He changed shirts three times.

Debated cologne.

Put on a jacket, took it off. Put it on again.

He even cleaned his glasses twice, just in case. Because Y/N L/N—the most famous woman on the planet—texted him and said, Can I take you to dinner? Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It wasn’t.

And it definitely wasn’t normal when she sent the location with a simple:

“Come hungry :)”

When he pulled up, Bob did a double take.

It was Joe’s Diner. A little 24-hour joint he knew well. Kind of rundown, all-day breakfast, the kind of place you could get pancakes and a cheeseburger at the same time. Local favorite.

But tonight?

The neon sign was glowing—and every booth was empty.

Except one.

Right in the corner.

With her.

She was already seated, sipping a milkshake with a red-and-white straw, grinning when she saw him through the glass.

Bob walked in slowly, trying not to trip over his own feet. “Hey…”

“Hi!” she said brightly, standing to greet him. She looked insane. Like she just stepped off a magazine cover—jeans, heels, a tight black top and diamonds like they were casual. Hair loose. Smile soft.

And still—somehow—completely down to earth.

“I hope this isn’t too much,” she said, biting her lip. “I tried to pick somewhere low-key. But when I got here it was packed and I got nervous and I kind of… rented the whole place out.”

“You what?”

She cringed playfully. “It was just a little panic move. I didn’t want people filming or asking for pictures while we were catching up, and I—I tipped!” she added quickly. “A lot! And I gave everyone working tonight $500 each. Just as a thank-you for letting me be a drama queen.”

Bob blinked.

“You rented out a diner… to get pancakes with me?”

She smiled. “Yeah. I missed you.”

He swallowed. “That’s… really nice.”

“You’re really nice.”

She sat back down, gesturing for him to slide in across from her. “I hope you like breakfast for dinner.”

“I do,” he said as he sat, heart pounding in his ears.

“Good,” she grinned. “I already ordered. I got waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, hashbrowns… and a milkshake.”

He blinked. “All that for you?”

“No,” she laughed, nudging his foot under the table. “For us.”

⸻

The food came fast—heaping plates of breakfast heaven—and Bob couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to her. Like nothing had changed. Like the weeks apart hadn’t happened. Like he wasn’t sitting across from the most beautiful, famous woman in the world while she poured syrup like a child and kicked her heel against his under the table.

She asked about his flights. His callsign. His favorite movie. If he liked dogs or cats. If he’d ever been to France.

And when he turned the questions on her, she answered just as openly.

Her eyes sparkled when she laughed. And Bob couldn’t stop smiling. Not once.

By the time they were finishing their second milkshake—sharing it this time—Bob didn’t want the night to end.

Neither did she.

Outside the diner, the night air was cool and quiet—except for the low murmur of four very serious-looking bodyguards stationed at every possible entrance and exit.

They stood at full attention, one by the curb, two by the diner’s double doors, and one tailing discreetly behind as she walked with Bob to his car.

Bob had never felt so… important. Or awkward. Mostly awkward.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying not to look like he was floating on air.

“I had a really, really great time tonight,” she said softly, slowing her steps as they reached his car.

Bob nodded quickly. “Me too. I… yeah. It was amazing. The waffles, and the shake, and you—uh, not that you’re—no, I mean—you’re amazing, I just meant the diner—the night was amazing, with you, and—”

Y/N giggled, cutting off his ramble with a gentle touch to his forearm. “Bob,” she said, and he shut up immediately. “Can I…?”

Before he could ask what she meant, she leaned up and pressed the softest kiss to his cheek.

Bob went rigid.

She pulled back just a few inches and blinked at him, shy for the first time tonight. “Was that okay?” she asked, suddenly unsure. “I—I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. That might’ve been—”

“That was more than fine,” Bob blurted out.

Her smile bloomed slow and warm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She paused. Tilted her head.

“…What if I actually kissed you?”

Bob blinked. Then swallowed. “Like… kiss kissed?”

She nodded.

“Oh my God please.”

She laughed—full and sweet—and before he could process it, she leaned in again, this time meeting his lips with hers.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t too much. It was… perfect. A little hesitant at first, then deeper when Bob finally remembered how to move. His hands hovered at her waist, not quite touching, until she pulled him just a little closer by the lapel of his jacket.

One of the bodyguards cleared his throat.

They pulled back, breathless.

She looked up at him through her lashes, smile dizzy and sure. “Now that’smore than fine.”

Bob was red. Like full-blown scarlet. But he was smiling, too.

“Should I… text you again?” she asked.

Bob nodded quickly. “Please.”

“I’ll try not to wait another two weeks.”

“I’ll survive,” he promised, and meant it a little too much.

She kissed him once more on the cheek for good measure before her security detail politely reminded her it was time to go.

But Bob stood by his car, lips tingling, heart thrumming, eyes locked on her retreating figure like he’d just watched a miracle walk into the night.

Because maybe he had.

———

Bob walked into the hangar the next morning like he’d just discovered heaven. Or touched it. Or made out with it behind a classic 1950s diner while four bodyguards pretended not to look.

He had that kind of dazed, floaty, not quite all the way here look about him. Hair tousled. Coffee half-sipped. Smiling to himself like an idiot.

And the squad? Oh, they noticed.

Phoenix clocked it the second he walked in. “No. No way.”

Payback leaned over. “Bro. What is that face?”

Bob blinked, snapped halfway back to earth. “What? What face?”

“You’re grinning,” Fanboy said, pointing. “You never grin. You… barely smile. You smirk at best.”

Rooster walked by with a protein bar and raised a brow. “Did you get laid?”

“Bradley!” Phoenix hissed.

Bob choked on air. “No! I—God, no! I mean—not no, I just—wow, what?!”

Phoenix crossed her arms and smirked. “Okay, so not laid. But something happened.”

Bob’s ears were already going pink. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, it’s a huge deal,” Payback grinned. “You haven’t even taken your backpack off. You’ve just been standing there smiling at the floor like a golden retriever in love.”

Fanboy leaned in. “Tell us.”

Bob hesitated. Bit the inside of his cheek. Then—

“She kissed me.”

“OH—”

It was like a bomb went off.

“NO. NO WAY.” Rooster shouted.

Phoenix straight-up slapped his arm. “You’re lying!”

Bob held up his hands. “Swear to God. At the diner.”

“She kissed you?” Payback repeated.

Bob’s smile got a little dreamy again. “Yeah.”

Fanboy let out a slow whistle. “On the cheek or…?”

Bob didn’t answer.

“Oh my god,” Phoenix whispered. “You got kissed kissed.”

He nodded.

“You got kissed,” Rooster said, pointing dramatically. “You got full-on superstar, movie-premiere, Hollywood-kiss kissed.”

Phoenix looked ready to explode. “Okay, so when’s the wedding?”

Fanboy gasped. “Did she post again?!”

Everyone immediately whipped their phones out, and sure enough—

@ynln

📍San Diego

🎬 had to see my pilot again before flying out to shoot the next movie 🤭💋

[photo of her in the cockpit next to Bob, hand on his shoulder, both of them beaming — and Bob? Blushing like hell]

And then the caption below the pic:

@ynln:

also, someone tell lieutenant floyd that i’m gonna marry him if he keeps being this cute

Rooster screamed. Phoenix looked like she was going to pass out. Fanboy started pacing in a circle with his hands on his head. Even Payback was speechless.

Bob stood there, stunned silent, staring at the screen.

Phoenix grabbed his arm. “She posted that? About you?!”

Bob nodded faintly, barely breathing.

Fanboy turned to him, deadly serious. “Do you know what this means?”

Bob blinked. “That… she likes me?”

“That you’re America’s Boyfriend now,” Fanboy said. “And also maybe her future husband.”

Payback grinned. “How’s it feel to be the luckiest man alive?”

Bob, still dazed, just whispered: “Unreal.”

———

Bob was pretty sure he was dreaming when the email showed up in his inbox.

Subject: 🎬 You’re Cordially Invited

From: Y/N’s personal assistant

Ms. Y/N L/N formally invites Lieutenant Robert Floyd and members of the Top Gun program to attend the official U.S. premiere of her upcoming film “Starlight Syndrome” in Los Angeles, California. Transportation will be arranged. Tuxedos required. Press will be present. Photos encouraged. Please RSVP within 48 hours.

Phoenix screamed when she found out. Literally screamed. Rooster nearly choked on his gum. Hangman tried to act unfazed, but even he ended up checking the mirror twice after hearing what the dress code was.

But Bob?

Bob just stared at the invite like it was written in gold. Like it might disappear if he blinked.

It had been two weeks since their diner night. Two weeks of silence. Two weeks of maybe she forgot or maybe it didn’t mean as much to her. He’d told himself not to get his hopes up. He tried not to check his phone. Tried not to look at the diner pic she left in his messages. Tried not to imagine her red carpet photos with someone else.

And then—this.

“You okay, Bob?” Fanboy asked, glancing at him.

Bob looked up slowly, blinking back into reality. “…She remembered.”

⸻

Cut to:

Red Carpet Night

She’s in some GOWN that looks like it cost six months of rent. Diamond earrings. Hair curled like old Hollywood. Makeup perfect, but not tooperfect—still the soft-eyed, sweet-talking girl who once whispered, “sorry, was that fine?” before kissing him behind a diner.

Bob steps out of the black SUV in a fitted tuxedo he nearly passed out putting on. Everyone looks great, but the second the press cameras see him—

“Lieutenant Floyd!”

“Bob Floyd, over here!”

“Are you the pilot she mentioned in her caption last week?!”

“Are you dating Y/N?!”

Bob freezes. Phoenix leans in. “Don’t lock up, just smile and wave like a politician.”

And then—she’s there.

Coming down the carpet in heels that cost more than his car, glowing,smiling, her eyes scanning through the crowd until they land right on him.

She walks right up to him and grins. “Hey, Lieutenant Floyd.”

Bob clears his throat. “Hey, Ms. L/N.”

She laughs softly, slipping her arm through his like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “So glad you made it.”

“You invited me,” he says dumbly.

“And you came,” she says, then pauses. “Sorry I didn’t text sooner. Press tour had me all over the globe. again. I didn’t forget you. Not for a second.”

Bob blinks. “You didn’t?”

She leans in, brushing her lips against his cheek again, soft and familiar. “Of course not. I’ve been thinking about you the whole time.”

And the flashbulbs? They explode.

——

As soon as she spots the squad getting out of the black SUV, she beams.Instantly waves them over, not caring that half of Hollywood is watching.

“There they are!” she says to the press with a laugh, her earrings glittering as she turns. “These are my guys!”

She doesn’t wait for them to approach—she walks toward them in her heels like she’s floating. Her team freaks out behind her. “Wait, Y/N! Stay in your mark!”

But she just waves them off. She’s on a mission.

“Rooster, Fanboy, Phoenix, Coyote, Payback, Hangman…” she’s pointing at each of them, remembering all their names. “Come take pictures with me—please. I need at least a hundred.”

They’re all caught off guard, not used to being the ones asked for photos, but they rush in, adjusting ties, smoothing hair, suddenly aware this moment will be everywhere.

They take group shots, laughing, hyping each other up. She makes them laugh for the wide angles, does one where they’re all pointing at the camera like a boy band. And then:

“Okay. Solo shots. Come on.”

She poses with each one—smiling with Phoenix, pulling Hangman into a fake headlock, matching sunglasses with Rooster—but when it’s Bob’s turn?

She turns fully toward him, voice dropping just slightly. “Hi again.”

He’s already red. “Hi.”

She wraps her arms around him, warm and confident. “This okay?”

He nods quickly. “Y-Yeah.”

“Good,” she whispers, and leans her head on his shoulder for the photo.

The cameras go insane.

Click. Flash. She’s giggling in another. Click. Flash. She’s turned toward him, both hands holding his now. Click. Flash. One more, and she hugs him again, resting her cheek briefly against his chest.

“You’re gonna break the internet,” Phoenix mutters behind them.

Bob’s eyes are wide. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Hangman says, actually impressed. “You look like the lead in a romance movie.”

⸻

And when the photos hit Instagram that night?

Her official account posts a carousel.

📸🎞️ Premiere night magic

🎬: #StarlightSyndrome

💫: Thank you to the real-life heroes who showed up tonight—your support means the world to me.

(Also yes, Bob gives the best hugs.)

swipe ➡️

First photo: her and the whole squad, all grinning.

Second: her arm-in-arm with Bob, her cheek against his shoulder.

Third: them mid-laugh, eyes only on each other.

Fourth: just Bob, caught off guard in a tux, smiling small but real.

———

The venue is glowing—low golden lights, deep velvet couches, a live band in the corner playing sultry jazz that occasionally slides into pop covers. The crowd is dressed to the nines, champagne everywhere. But she’s not interested in Hollywood small talk. Not tonight.

Because when she walks in and sees them—the squad huddled around a table near the back, already laughing with drinks in hand—her smile lights up the whole room.

“There’s my table,” she says to her assistant, ignoring every producer who tries to pull her away. “Don’t let anyone drag me off. I’m going there.”

And she does.

She walks right over, hugs Phoenix from behind, taps Rooster’s glass with her own. Bob stands when she gets there—of course he does—and she gives him a grin before leaning in and kissing his cheek.

“Hi, Bob.”

He’s already red. “Hi. You—you look stunning.”

“So do you.” She sits right next to him. Doesn’t even hesitate.

⸻

She makes the rounds from there—laughing with Coyote over bad pick-up lines, cheers-ing Payback when he dares her to take a shot. She dances with everybody.

At one point, she pulls Fanboy into a spin. At another, she drags Phoenix out for a full choreographed moment when the band switches to Beyoncé. She even twirls Rooster like he’s the belle of the ball and he goes with it.

“Where’d you learn to dance like this?” Hangman asks.

“On set. You think I’m gonna waste those choreography lessons?” she quips, grabbing his hand and flipping it to lead him into a swing move before pointing dramatically to Bob.

“Okay—my turn. Come on, Bob.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Dance with me.”

“I—uh, I don’t really dance—”

“Lucky for you, I do,” she teases, grabbing his hand. “Let me lead?”

He can’t say no. So he lets her pull him in. It’s awkward at first—Bob trying not to step on her toes, her laughing gently when he almost trips—but she never lets go.

“You’re doing great.”

“You’re lying,” he mutters.

She laughs and leans closer, her forehead brushing his. “I don’t lie to you.”

⸻

Eventually they all collapse back at the table, flushed from dancing, laughing too loud, sipping drinks with messy garnishes and half-melted ice.

She looks around at all of them—grinning, bickering, teasing each other—and then looks at Bob beside her.

“This is my favorite table in the room.”

His chest tightens a little. “Yeah?”

She nods, resting her head briefly on his shoulder. “And you’re my favorite part of it.”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure he could, not with his throat tightening and his heart thudding like that. But he doesn’t need to.

Because she’s still holding his hand under the table.

———

The after party was in full swing—music pulsing, people dancing, drinks flowing—but Bob had somehow ended up on the balcony. He wasn’t avoiding anyone. He just… needed air. Or maybe he needed to think. About the night. About her.

And speak of the devil—there she was.

She stepped out, her gown glimmering under the soft patio lights, her heels clicking gently on the tiles. She was holding two champagne flutes and passed one to him like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“You disappeared,” she said, smiling like she already knew where he’d gone.

Bob cleared his throat. “Just wanted some quiet.”

“Good. I needed a break too.” She leaned on the railing beside him, shoulder just brushing his. “This was nice. All of this.”

He smiled. “It really was.”

Then she turned slightly toward him, something playful in her voice.

“Do you think your friends like me?”

Bob blinked. “Like you? Are you kidding? They’re obsessed with you.”

She laughed, tipping her head back slightly. “What about you?”

And that was when it happened.

He looked right at her, soft-eyed, serious as ever, and—

“I was obsessed before I even met you.”

There was a beat of silence. A pause. Then his entire face turned red.

“Wait—I didn’t mean— I mean, I did, but not like—I just meant—”

She was smiling, watching him unravel, clearly trying not to laugh.

“I mean, I’ve always admired you. A lot. Not just how you look—God, not just that—I mean you’re obviously—you know—but you’re really… you’re so kind. And smart. And I just—okay. Yeah. I’m gonna stop talking now.”

She took a small step closer.

“Bob?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you said it.”

He blinked. “Wait—what?”

“I’ve been obsessed with you since you stuttered out your name that first day.”

And then she clinked her glass gently against his.

“To quiet balconies and flustered pilots.”

Bob leaned against the balcony railing of her rented house in San Diego, one hand wrapped around a sweating glass of water, the other loosely tucked into his pocket. She stood beside him, the hem of her dress fluttering in the warm breeze, her elbow barely brushing his. They’d been talking about nothing and everything for the past hour. He had never felt more at ease.

Then his phone buzzed in his back pocket.

He glanced at the screen. Mom.

“Give me one sec,” he murmured, stepping away a little, pressing the phone to his ear. “Hey, Mom—”

Her eyes were on him immediately. She didn’t even try to hide it. She could see the way his body stiffened before she could hear anything, see the way his free hand shot to his mouth, pressing against it hard like he could physically hold the sound inside.

His knees nearly buckled. He leaned hard against the balcony wall, his face dropping out of sight.

“Bob?” she asked softly, already moving.

He didn’t answer. The phone slipped from his hand and hit the wood with a dull thud.

She was there instantly, no hesitation, both hands coming to his shoulders. “Bob—hey. Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart, look at me.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “What happened?”

He turned to her, eyes already glassy, and in a choked whisper, he finally got it out.

“It’s my grandpa.”

A beat.

“He’s gone.”

The silence that followed was still—but not empty. She pulled him into her arms without a second thought, his face buried into the curve of her neck as his shoulders began to shake. Not a full sob at first—just breathless, body-wracking grief that broke through the careful calm he always carried.

“I’m here,” she whispered, over and over, her hands running up and down his back, her heart splintering for him. “I’m right here. I’ve got you. Shhh… I’m not leaving. I’ve got you.”

Minutes passed like that. She didn’t rush him. Didn’t speak unless he needed it. Just held him, solid and unwavering, while the sky dimmed behind them.

When his breathing finally slowed, he still hadn’t let go. His cheek was pressed against her shoulder, and his voice was barely audible.

“C-Can you come with me?”

She didn’t hesitate.

“Of course I will,” she said, tightening her arms around him. “Just tell me when we’re leaving.”

⸻

The next morning, her team was already mobilized before sunrise.

Flights were canceled. Meetings postponed. Her stylist sent condolences. Her assistant was on the phone coordinating with security.

They boarded her private jet just after noon—Bob sitting quietly by the window, hands clasped in his lap, while she curled into the seat next to him, fingers laced gently through his.

The six security guards kept a respectful distance. No press knew what was going on. She made sure of it.

The funeral was quiet and heartbreaking. Bob’s family welcomed her immediately, touched by her presence and her grace. She stayed two full weeks—meeting cousins, helping his mom with errands, holding his hand through every difficult moment. She was dressed simply, spoke softly, and never once made it about her.

She was just his—the girl who didn’t blink when he fell apart, who flew across the country to sit beside him at the hardest table he’d ever faced.

And every night, when the house fell quiet, she sat next to him on the porch swing with two mugs of tea. She never said too much.

Just enough.

———

It was late. Almost midnight. The crickets had taken over the soundtrack of the sleepy Texas town, and the porch swing creaked every so often with the rhythm of the night.

Bob had gone inside to help his mom with something in the kitchen, leaving her sitting alone with a cup of tea she’d made herself at this point. Familiar now. Natural.

The screen door opened behind her, and she turned to see a woman—older, warm-eyed, and sharp in that matriarchal way. Bob’s Aunt Carol.

“Mind if I sit?” she asked.

“Please,” Y/N said instantly, scooting to make room. “Of course.”

Carol sat down with a sigh, her hands folded over her lap. She looked at the actress—the actress—the same one Bob had had posters of on his bedroom wall since he was sixteen—and gave her a long, thoughtful once-over.

“You’re not what I expected,” she said gently.

Y/N smiled, not offended in the slightest. “I get that a lot.”

Carol nodded, still watching her. “You’re sweet. Not just in a polite kind of way. I can tell. You see people. You saw him.”

She swallowed, caught off guard. “I… I hope so.”

“He’s always been our quiet one,” Carol continued, glancing toward the house. “Shy. Gentle. Loves deeper than he lets on. Lost his dad young. Took it hard. Carried more than he ever should’ve.”

Y/N blinked back sudden emotion, nodding slowly.

“You holding him like that?” Carol said softly. “Out there when that call came? I saw it. I know what that meant.”

Y/N pressed her lips together, heart tight in her chest.

Carol leaned in slightly. “So I just have one question for you.”

“Okay,” Y/N said, barely above a whisper.

“Are you gonna break my nephew’s heart?”

The question didn’t sting. It settled heavy. Honest.

Y/N looked her dead in the eyes, shoulders square, voice unwavering. “No, ma’am. I’d rather someone break mine first.”

Carol sat back, studying her for one long moment.

Then she smiled. “Good. Then you’re welcome here. Anytime.”

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

From inside, Bob’s laugh echoed faintly through the walls. She turned toward the sound, like gravity had shifted just slightly in his direction.

Carol watched her for another beat and said, “You love him already, don’t you?”

She didn’t deny it.

Didn’t even look away.

“…Yeah,” Y/N murmured, lips curling just barely. “I think I do.”

———

The house had quieted, humming low with the sounds of settling: dishwasher running, floorboards groaning under the weight of memories. The kind of silence that only came after a long day filled with too many emotions.

Bob stopped just outside the guest room, like he always did. He never let her walk alone, not even down the hall in his childhood home.

She turned and faced him at the door, her hand still on the knob. Her expression was unreadable—soft, but serious.

“Can you come in for a second?” she asked.

His heart stuttered.

He hesitated for half a breath too long.

“…Yeah. Sure.”

He stepped inside, standing awkwardly near the dresser while she sat on the edge of the bed. She motioned for him to sit next to her, and when he did, the mattress dipped with the weight of what he thought was coming.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, trying to keep it neutral, but his voice betrayed him.

She folded her hands in her lap, took a breath. “There’s something I need to say. And I’m a little nervous, so please don’t interrupt, okay?”

Bob nodded immediately. Scared stiff.

She met his eyes. Really met them.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she started. “I didn’t expect to come to a Navy base and meet someone like you. And I definitely didn’t expect that you’d be the one person I couldn’t get out of my head.”

His brows furrowed slightly, unsure. Guarded.

She went on.

“And when I asked for your number, I meant to text you the next day. But things snowballed. Press junkets, red-eyes, interviews… I didn’t even have time to breathe. And I thought about you every single day.”

Bob’s throat moved with a quiet swallow.

She scooted a little closer on the bed, her knee brushing his. “I know this isn’t normal. None of this is. I have six bodyguards and a schedule that’s insane, and you fly jets for a living and barely look at your phone.”

That made him smile, just a little.

“But I want to try,” she said. “I want you. I don’t care about the noise or the press or how different our lives look on paper. I care about the way you treat me. The way you look at me like I’m just a person. The way you make me feel safe without trying.”

He was frozen. Wide-eyed. She reached for his hand, gently easing it into hers.

“I don’t know how this will work,” she said, voice softer now. “But if you want to try, too… I’m in. No matter what.”

Bob blinked fast, then looked down at their joined hands like he couldn’t quite believe they were real. “I thought… I thought you were about to say this wasn’t gonna work,” he admitted.

She smiled. “I kind of figured you’d panic.”

“I was preparing myself for the worst,” he laughed nervously. “Like full breakup speech.”

She shook her head and leaned in, pressing her forehead gently to his. “No breakup. Just… beginning.”

He pulled back slightly so he could look at her, really look. And then, voice barely a whisper:

“I’ve wanted this since the moment you called me a cutie patootie in front of everyone.”

She laughed, breathless. “So… you’re in?”

Bob nodded, cheeks flushed, heart racing.

“I’m in,” he said. “Completely.”

[mxrcusflint]

daggers (this is how the movie went, right?)

[k9effect]

TOP GUN PROFILE PICS!

[Click for better quality, reblogs and tags highly appreciated]

Free to use! Credit appreciated but not necessary <3

Background colours are based on their helmet designs :)

I've had these in my drafts since November 2023,,, I had other characters planned and sketched out but never finished them so I'm posting this now and might do a part 2 in the future with the other characters

Also please note that these are old and my style and art has definitely improved so it's not super indicative of my current art, but I still think they have a certain charm to them :)

[enthyrea]

dagger version of this post!! olympic au!!🥇

tried to match their characters/body types to appropriate sports <33

rooster as a fencer, hangman as an equestrian, coyote and hondo as track&field (sprinter and shot put), phoenix and bob as shooters, fanboy as a skateboarder, and payback as a judoka!

[missmouse1223-blog]

Headcannon: Cyclone had a crush on Maverick back when Maverick was an instructor at Top Gun. But he didn’t feel the same and because he was with Ice. So Cyclone’s been holding onto that grudge for thirty years and Maverick finds it hilarious.

Ice, on the other hand, finds it annoying.

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

(Hangman walks into the Hard Deck grinning and walks right up to Rooster, who’s with the others)

Hangman(to Rooster): Babe, you’re never gonna guess what happened! Rooster: Well, then tell me. Hangman: I drove here with Phoenix, and as we were getting out of the car, a guy driving by whistled at us. And, long story short - Phoenix(walks into the Hard Deck triumphantly): - WHO WANTS A STEERING WHEEL???!! (the whole bar cheers loudly)

[incorrectdaggersquad]

Top Gun + text posts (2/?)

[eclairemaire]

Meeting the Missus pt. 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Wife! Reader

Category: Fluff

Summary: The Team finds out Bob is married and wants to meet the missus.

Warnings: Slight allusions to mature content(nothing explicit ever stated though), Reader is described very similarly to Rhea Ripley, Reader and Bob are very much in love, No mention of Y/N used, Southern Reader (she's like all southern ladies sweet like iced tea, but can knock you on your ass if she has too), Express mentions of reader and Bob's Child, Lemme know if I missed any.

Word Count: 1.9K

Notes: This is the second part of 'Meeting the Missus'. I highly recommend reading the first part before reading this. Please enjoy!!! And I will continue to update as I'm able.

After the first meet-up with the dagger squad at the Hard Deck, it became almost routine that every other week or so, you would meet up with them for an evening at the bar. Bob wasn’t all that surprised that the team liked you so much; what wasn’t there to like? All that southern charm wrapped up in a woman who had all the means to be anything but. The team had pestered him so much about what you even did all the time and why they only got to see you every other week, but working from home and being a full-time parent had taken up most of your time.

“So Bobby, when are we going to get to meet this kid of yours that you keep hidden all the time?” Hangman asked as the squad made its way to the locker rooms from the hangar.

“Probably soon,” Bob said, wiping sweat from his brow. ”The missus is planning to have a cookout soon, and I get the feeling that all of you will get invited, seeing as neither of us has family here in San Diego.” 

“Oh? An invitation to your home and free food.” Rooster sighed, “Man, are you sure that’s a good idea? We might never leave.”

Putting his helmet on the bench and starting to remove his flight suit, Bob sighed as well, “I don’t have a choice in the matter. She tells me what she plans, and I do what I can.” He shivers at the reminder of what happened when he didn’t do something you asked of him when you were pregnant; he’ll forever be haunted by the memory.

“I can’t tell if that’s because you love her so much or if you’re scared of your wife?” Fanboy says as he starts putting on his civvies.

“Can’t you tell it’s both?” Coyote states as he shoves something into his locker, “That woman is capable of folding any of us like lawn chairs if she wanted to.”

Bob looked at the rest of them with a look that said, ‘I’m not answering that question.’ Grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, and shoving the truck keys into his front pocket starts to leave.

“I’ll see y’all tomorrow, and let you know when the cookout is,” he waved a hand over his shoulder and exited the locker room.

Pulling into the driveway, Bob sees the lights off in the house and hears music and laughter coming from the backyard. Unlocking the front door and putting his bag on the bench in the entryway, he’s greeted by one of the dogs. 

“Hey Nuggs,” he says quietly, squatting down to give the dog some pets. “I’m home!” He yells as he stands up and starts moving toward the back door.

“DADDY!” Little feet can be heard running toward him as the back door opens. Seeing his kiddo coming at him full speed, Bob braces himself for the incoming tornado that is his daughter. Picking her up and spinning her around, he smiles as he sees you approaching after shutting the back door. “Hi, Bug.” He tells Riley as he places her on his hip, turning to you, kissing you on your cheek. “My love.”

“Ewww..” Riley says, starting to squirm in his arms. “Daddy you’re gonna give Mama cooties.” He turns to her and starts peppering her face with kisses, and giggles erupt from Riley as soon as his attention his on her, making her squirm even more.

“Cooties? Mama can’t get cooties from me she’s got super powers” he giggles at her squeals, as you watch with a fond smile as you lean against the wall with your arms folded over your chest showing off the muscles that reside there. Riley turns to look at you from her dad's arms and smiles.

“Yeah, Mama’s got super strength and super love!” She exclaims, eyes bright with admiration for her mama. Bob sets Riley down with a warm smile.

“Bug, why don’t you go wash up before we eat dinner?” you ask her before she scampers off down the hall and up the stairs to get ready for dinner. Leaning off the wall and stepping into Bob’s bubble, you smile as you string your arms around his neck as his arms snake around your waist, hands resting on your lower back.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” It’s a quiet exchange before he leans down to kiss you on your lips, it’s soft, full of love, and longing after a long day apart. Pressing his forehead to yours, he asks, “How are you?”

“Good, it’s been a productive day, Riley had a good nap, and I got plenty of work done and dinner made on time with no major disasters. The only thing missing was my wonderful husband.” You say pecking his lips. “How was yours?”

“The usual, drills, reports, pushups. Told the squad about the cookout,” he said, noticing the furrowing of your brow, “Didn’t give them a date but a forewarning that it’d be happening at some point in the future.”

“Oh, ok, good, guess I’ll move up the date then.” You said, stepping back and turning toward your office through a pair of French doors down the hall, Bob follows silently. Going up to the big calendar on the wall, looking over the dates and what has good availability, for all the prep needed for what you were planning.

“It doesn’t have to be soon,” he says, observing you as you head toward your desktop to check your work calendar. 

“No, no, it’s all good. My current project should be done by next Wednesday at the latest. That’ll give me all of Thursday and Friday for prep and Saturday morning for last-minute arrangements if necessary.” Stepping away from your computer and heading to the exit of your office, you motion for him to scoot out of the way so you could close the office doors. Just as you head for the kitchen, you hear a thump from upstairs and then the sound of muffled cries from what could only be your daughter. Sharing a brief look at each other, you both rush up the steps to see Riley in the hall with what appears to be carpet burn forming on her forehead as she looks up at both of you with tears in her eyes. Her lip wobbles for half a second before she wails at the top of her lungs.

“Ma-Mama,” She sobbed as she reached out for you. Bending down and picking her up swiftly, she tucks her head under your chin and wraps her arms around your neck, as Bob starts to head to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom.

“Meet you in the kitchen,” you say as you turn down the stairs and go to the kitchen. Setting Riley on the island countertop, you grab a wash cloth and wet it with cool water to dab against her forehead. “What happened, Bug?” You ask, your tone soft. Bob is next to you, first aid kit set open on the counter, grabbing Neosporin and several band-aids for her to choose from.

“I tripped an-an-and fell on’ta floor,” she said, hiccups coming in strong as she tried to calm down. Bob had started to rub circles on her back as her hiccups continued and her tears started to slow. Wiping her tear tracks with the wash cloth and stepping away so Bob could apply Neosporin to her forehead.

“Oh, Bug,” Bob said as he finished applying the cream and wiped his fingers clean with the damp wash cloth. “How would you like to pick out a band-aid, then eat dinner and watch a movie after with me and your mama, does that sound good?” he asked, holding out the band-aids for her to choose from. She nodded her head as she reached for an orange one with dinosaurs on it, her eyes glossy as she looked up at both of you.

“Ok,” you say as you take the band-aid to put it on her forehead. Afterward, Bob picks her up and takes her to the dinner table, and you get everyone a bowl of food, and you all eat as soft conversation flows.

After all the dishes are put in the dishwasher, you all pile on the couch, Riley in between you and Bob, as the opening scenes for ‘Quest for Camelot’ play on the screen. By the end of the movie, Riley is having a hard time keeping her eyes open. Bob picks her up as you both go upstairs to tuck her into bed. Placing a kiss on both of her cheeks, you say, “Good night, Riley, I love you.” She snuggles up to her stuffed animal as Bob does the same.

“Night, muma, da’dy… love you,” She mumbles as she squishes into her blankets. You and Bob slowly back out of the room and close the door. Heading into y’all’s bedroom just down the hall.

Once inside, Bob shuts the door behind you, grabs your hand, and heads to sit at the end of the bed. Sitting down, he pulls you in between his legs, his arms wrapping around you, holding you there, and rests his head against your chest. Carding your fingers through his hair as you sway lightly. You both stay that way for a few minutes, just basking in each other's presence. You move to sit next to him on the bed, facing each other, you take off his glasses and set them aside. You lean your forehead against his and look into his eyes, they were a magnificent blue, as though they held all of the oceans within them, deep and filled with love. Tilting in to kiss him, deliberate, sensual, filled with all the love you carried for him, he returned the kiss with fervor, one hand on the side of your face, the other holding your hip as you leaned into him. Letting out a hum as you release him from the kiss.

Looking at his still closed eyes, “I’m going to wash up.” It was hushed, barely spoken above a whisper, moving to head towards the ensuite in an unhurried manner, he held onto your hand until you were out of reach. “You can always join me,” it was said in an unserious tone as you entered the bathroom. Bob just groaned from his spot on the bed.

The following morning, Bob woke up enveloped in your arms as your head rested on his shoulder. He was surrounded by your smell and your heat. Placing a kiss on your forehead, he started to unravel himself from you. As soon as he started to move, you started mumbling in your sleep, small, incoherent thoughts.

“Mhmm, ugh, sweetheart, is it time for you to go already?” You mumble as you try to pull him back into the bed. It was a good thing you didn’t have a good hold on him anymore ‘cause that would’ve been a losing battle for him.

“Yes, my love,” he leaned down to place a kiss on your head, before he started to get ready to head to base. Getting dressed in his khakis and heading downstairs, grabbing an apple and a protein bar to eat on the way to base, he started to dig through the fridge for some leftovers from dinner the night before to take as his lunch. Before leaving for the day, he went upstairs to hug and kiss you goodbye before going to Riley’s room to do the same and wish her a good day.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

[the-shedevil-writes]

Manchild (Jake Seresin x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: After too many heartbreaks and enough horrible dates, you’ve sworn off love completely. But it's hard to resist when every Friday, like clockwork, Jake Seresin shows up flirting like it's his full-time job. So when you say yes, you expect the worst, only to be surprised when he treats you better than any man has before. WORD COUNT: 3.8k WARNINGS: First date fluff! MC hasn't had a good relationship past (nothing crazy). Making out and lots of kissing. NOTES: Inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's new song ;) This is dedicated to my ex who, yes, did wear basketball shorts to dates MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Y/n had sworn off dating a while ago. She had called it quits on the modern dating scene after months of failed Tinder dates and self-centered flings. Men didn’t want commitment these days, and she had accepted that. Embraced it even. There didn’t seem to be a point in trying to keep a man who didn’t want to stay. And one-night stands were rarely satisfying enough to make them worth all the effort. 

Working as a waitress in a beach bar right by the North Island Air Force Base didn’t help. She had dipped into the pool of pilots and jumped right back out. After a devastating point of getting her hopes up and being let down by a Top Gun man, she swore never again.

That’s why when Jake Seresin came into the bar every Friday night with his squadron, she paid him no mind. She swatted his flirtations like flies. Even though he was the most handsome recruit she had seen so far, she had gotten her heart broken so many times that it didn’t budge the walls she had built. He was just like every cocky Top Gun graduate that came into The Hard Deck. Though granted, he was the first one with the looks to somewhat match. 

He was persistent, but she didn’t mind. At least, it gave her a little entertainment during her shift. Who wouldn’t want to be flirted with by a hot pilot? To her, it was a brief distraction from the fact that men were only disappointments. It let her play pretend for a little.

“How’s my favorite bartender doing this evening?” He asked one day, leaning on the bar with his forearms. This was the start of their usual banter. His blonde hair was a little messy from the day, and she couldn’t help but notice that he had a slight stubble compared to his usual clean shave. It looked good on him.  

She looked over at the group of pilots in matching uniforms. They were all indiscreetly watching them, finding joy in Hangman being shot down every Friday. 

“She’s doing okay. How’s my most hated patron doing?” She asked while drying a Guinness glass with a rag, not even looking at him. The pilots always came in early, straight from their shifts. Always around sunset, an hour or so before rush. 

He put his hand to his heart. “Ouch. He’s hurt.” He said, shaking his head with a smirk, “I’m doing quite all right now that I get to look at you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I swear, you get all your lines from 80s rom-coms or something.” 

“I do have a soft spot for Sixteen Candles. We should watch it.” He tapped the bar, and she could feel his sea green eyes take her all in. 

She shrugged and put the glass away. Counting the group of pilots, she already started getting a round of their usual from the mini fridge below. “I’m busy and I prefer Dirty Dancing.” She stated, looking up at him with an exasperated expression. She slid the round of bottles over to him. “Want me to open a tab?” 

“You know me so well.” He said, tilting his head. 

“I just wanna get you drunk enough that you’ll fall asleep and shut up.” She laughed now at the imagery in her head. 

A Cheshire grin formed on his face, and he pointed to her. “There she is. Oh, how I love to make you break.” He said 

She couldn’t help the blush this time, but she kept her face stoic. “Your drinks are getting warm.”

“They can wait.” He said with his hand to his cheek now, just admiring her.

There was a moment of silence as she raised her brows and went to dry another glass. 

“Never gonna say yes to that date?” He asked.

“Are you ever gonna stop asking?”

He smiled again. “When the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen is right in front of you, I don’t think it’s smart to stop.”

Jesus, he was laying it on thick tonight. It was getting harder to keep up the game of pretend. Usually, it was just a few quips, but for some reason tonight he was on another level. 

“Didn’t know you came in already drunk. I should cut you off.” 

“Stone cold sober.”

“Concussion?”

“I’m a better pilot than that, honey.”

Why was he getting to her tonight? She had been strong for months now. Maybe it was that new romance show she’d been binge-watching that made her feel a sense of emptiness. Maybe it was because the nights got chilly, and she found her bed to be much bigger these days. Or the videos that flooded her social media of relationships that were way too perfect to be true. 

It could’ve been any of those things… but she was struggling to keep her guard up. And it seemed like Jake could tell by the mischievous smile on his face. 

“What’s your favorite food?”

She stared at him with a glare that told him to quit it. But Jake was never the type of person to do what he was told. She started wiping down the sticky countertop.

“Come on, humor me here.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Fine. I like a good burger.”

“This is just too perfect. There’s a drive-in movie theater I know that makes a mean burger.” He said, smiling and drumming the table.

“Is that where you take all the girls?” She asked, not looking up from the counter she was wiping. 

“It’s where I’d like to take the girl.” 

She shook her head, frustrated now, and looked up at him. “You think you’ve got all the answers, huh? All the words to make me swoon, but I’m not stupid, Hangman. I’m not the kind of girl to get swept up in all this and believe you want nothing more than my presence.” 

He smirked at that, almost as if he predicted she would say that. As if he had rehearsed this time and time again in his head. “I’ll have you home by midnight. Before then, if you’d like, but if we start pushing ten, we’d have to leave the movies early.”

She laughed in disbelief. This guy had some nerve. 

“If I say yes, will you bring your lukewarm beers to your friends?” 

“I’ll do whatever you tell me to.” 

God, that was kinda hot. She sighed and tilted her head at him. “Saturday night. 8 PM. I live at the Apollo apartments down by the supermarket. Don’t be late.”

That Saturday, she had no idea what to wear. It dawned on her just how long it had been since her last date. She combed through the selection in her closet and eventually landed on something she’d at least be comfortable in. A cropped green tank top with a denim mini skirt. She lined her arms with bracelets that clinked when she walked and put a pair of sunglasses on her head despite the sun going down as she did so.

She was mid lip gloss application when she realized the time. It was eight o’clock on the dot. Eh, she probably had give or take ten to fifteen minutes. It’s not like dates were ever on time, and they often got lost in her apartment building anyway. 

After taking her time collecting her things into her purse, she walked down the outside steps to find Jake standing by his white Jeep, looking around, blocking the setting sun from his eyes. The first thing she noticed was how he was dressed. He was wearing a crisp white T-shirt that fit him snugly under a brown leather aviator jacket. His jeans were dark and cuffed at the bottom to show his nice pair of suede shoes. 

The second thing she noticed was the bouquet of sunflowers, daisies, and baby’s breath. Disbelief coursed through her. He looked like he was plucked straight from one of the romance novels sitting on her nightstand.

“Hey Hangman!” She called, and he snapped over at her voice. A relieved smile appeared on his face, and he slowly walked forward. Her heels clicked on the asphalt as she strutted over and stopped in front of him. 

“I was starting to worry you’d stand me up.” He said, “You look gorgeous as always.”

Her face was cherry tomato red, and she tried to hide it by looking down at the pavement. She rocked on her heels nervously. 

“Thank you… You’re all dressed up.” She pointed out.

He let out a huff and a confused smile.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked, squinting his eyes and furrowing his brows. But he quickly shook it off. “These are for you.”

“They are?!” She couldn’t help the excitement now. 

“Sweetheart, who else would they be for?” He laughed.

She took the bouquet in her hands and inhaled the botanical smell of it. “I’ve never gotten flowers before. They’re so nice.”

“You’ve… What?” 

She didn’t notice his confusion and smiled up at him genuinely. “Thank you, Jake. I love them so much.”

He shook his head and scratched the back of his neck, admiring her. “I’ll get you flowers every damn day if it keeps you looking that happy.” He didn’t miss the face she made with the widened puppy eyes. As if she couldn’t believe it. “Now come on, let’s get this show on the road.” 

She nodded and walked past him toward the passenger side. Accidentally forcing him to rush past her and open the door himself.

“Oh! Thank you!” She smiled naively. 

Shaking his head again, he ran a hand down his face. “I have a feeling you’re gonna kill me with all this tonight.” He murmured

She tilted her head, confused, and reached up to put one foot on the Jeep's steep step. The car was much bigger than either of them, and she felt a little awkward climbing up in a skirt and heels. 

“You got it?” He asked, coming up behind her and putting his hands out in case he needed to catch her.

She nodded. “I got it.” But as she went to grab the handle grip, her heel slipped and she fell back slightly, Jake catching her waist.

“Oh god Jesus-” He spouted out, panicked, exhaling as she released a loud laugh. 

She got her balance back and climbed into the car. It was almost impossible to ignore the spark his touch had left behind from when his fingers accidentally went beneath top. But it was stifled by her instinct to laugh at Jake’s panicked and flushed face. 

“You’re too cute, Seresin.” She said, looking down at him now, and he let out a relieved sigh. 

The typical confident smirk returned to his lips. “I like it when you flirt back.” He stated before shutting the door for her. 

The Drive-In was nothing like she had experienced before. She had only seen this sorta thing in movies and read it in passages from The Outsiders. So she looked around with curious eyes as he drove through the grass field. 

After finding an optimal spot for the Jeep to see the whole screen, the two walked up to a small concession stand at the back of the car park. It wasn’t very busy, with lots of picnic tables empty. People were mostly pulling in or waiting in their cars for the movie to start. 

They got in line, and she instinctively stood behind him as he looked up at the chalkboard menu. After a moment, he turned to his side, expecting to see her, then turned back around to find her studying the menu in line. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Get over here.” He said, and when she did, he wrapped his arm around her. The leather of his jacket smelled so good. It was covered by a rich, clean scent… Did he spray his jacket with cologne too? She resisted the urge to giggle as he held her, but there was no way to hide the giddy smile and blush across her cheeks. He seemed proud to be with her, and it was driving her wild. 

“But what about when we order?” She asked

“What about it?” 

“Well, how will they know to separate the-”

His eyes widened, and he looked down at her. “Y/n… Are you telling me you expected to split the bill?”

Her jaw dropped slightly. Honestly, yeah, she had. She was so used to it. She never wanted to seem like a snob or a woman who expected all expenses to be paid for. It’s not like she had dated many men with great finances, and she didn’t want to be a burden. Most men eagerly took the option to split, and she really didn’t mind. She nodded at him.

“I don’t wanna waste your money-”

“It’s a five-dollar burger and shake. Are you kidding me?” 

“Uh, no?” She replied anxiously

There was something brewing behind his smile. A sense of vexation that worried her. He shook his head. “I got it.”

They got up to the front of the line, and he greeted the cashier.

“I’ll have the double cheeseburger and… a Diet Coke.” He started, then he looked over at them, “Tell them what you want, honey.” His voice was smooth, and it came out of him so naturally. It felt like they had done this for years. That they were some domesticated couple that was having a night out on the town. Especially when he called her honey like that. He called her that sometimes at the bar, but tonight it felt different rolling off his tongue.

“Uh, I’ll get the cheeseburger and the chocolate shake.” 

He smiled. “Good choice.” He squeezed her shoulder, and they paid.

Not even ten minutes later, they sat on one of the picnic tables with a red umbrella stemming from it. He watched as she sipped on her milkshake and looked around curiously at their surroundings. Fireflies flew by a chain link fence, and there was an area for kids to run around in the fields. 

“Is it good?” He asked, “Gimme a taste.”

She nodded, and she handed him the paper cup. Again, that sense of normalcy between them made her heart pound. Maybe it was the fact that they knew each other already, with them talking every Friday night for months now. But this date didn’t have that awkward feeling that most first dates did. It all felt natural.

He took a sip and blinked his eyes in surprise. “God damn, that’s good.”

She laughed and took it back, swinging her feet under the table. She could feel his eyes on her, and it made her face turn red for what felt like the millionth time. When he looked at her like she was a painting in a museum, it was hard not to. 

“What?!” She asked with a pressured chuckle.

“I wanna know what the hell you were expecting tonight. It’s like everything I do surprises you.” He said, placing his elbow on the table and putting his hand to his temple.

She nodded, a lot more comfortable around him now. It was nice. It felt like she could genuinely talk to him compared to the banter-heavy quips at Hard Deck.

“There’s a reason I didn’t say yes to you right away, Jake.” She started.

“I’m sensing that now. Go on.”

“I… I am not used to… this. The flowers. The opening car doors. The whole thing. Guys don’t normally do that.” She explained, “Hell, I was surprised you didn’t show up at my door wearing basketball shorts and a graphic T-shirt.”

His face was horrified. He leaned in. “Guys have worn that on a date?”

“YES! Many!” She said, laughing now. “I-I thought that I just had my standards too high. That those sorta things were just reserved for the movies. Plus, it’s not like many of the dates I went out on were real dates. They felt more like… a means to an end for them. So I figured I’d just quit. Give up on the idea of love and fairytales. And never give the handsome pilot at the bar a chance to make me cry.” 

He reached forward and held her hand. It was silent between them as he thought about what he wanted to say. That last sentence seemed to have struck a chord with him. His thumb brushed over the top of her hand.

“This isn’t just a means to an end for me. I hope you know that.” He said gently.

“I’m sensing that now.” She mimicked him. 

He smiled at her. “Now come on, give me another sip of that shake.”

“NO!”

Thirty minutes later, they sat in the trunk of his car as the opening to Ferris Bueller’s Day Off played on the giant screen in front of them. His radio was set to the frequency of the drive-in so they could hear the audio from the speakers behind them. There were already pillows and blankets that Jake had prepared in the spacious back for them. 

She curled up in the thin brown blanket that he had brought, and he admired how she looked in the silver light of the film. Her eyes looked beautiful as they gazed up at the screen. Then he noticed her give off a  slight shiver. She didn’t even notice.

She was too enthralled in the witty dialogue of the movie at first to realize. Then she heard shuffling and looked over to find Jake, taking off his aviator jacket, and moving to wrap it around her. 

“Are you not gonna be cold?” She asked worriedly.

He scoffed and continued to wrap the jacket around her. “I’ll be just fine.” He said as if it shouldn’t have even been a question. “Could use somebody to warm me up, though.” He said casually.

She smirked at that and pried her eyes off the screen to look up at him. “I think I can help with that.” She replied before scooting over to rest her head on his chest. His arm wrapped around her shoulders as hers wrapped around his waist. 

The blanket, the jacket, and his torso all kept her so warm. It was like her own personal heater. A contented sigh escaped her, and he gently started scratching her scalp.  She could fall asleep like this, but she wanted to stay awake and watch the movie. 

Nearing the end of the movie, he looked down to find her eyes sleepily blinking. Her eyes were half open, straining to watch. He chuckled.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?”

She nodded, “You’re so comfy.” She murmured. 

“We’ll get you home soon.” He reassured, but she almost didn’t want the date to end. Curse her independence.

After the movie ended, the credits rolled, and she clapped. She looked up at him with a small, sleepy smile and those doe eyes that first captured Jake’s attention.

“You’re so pretty when you’re not stressed behind the bar.” He teased, carefully reaching up to brush some hair out of her face.

“Says the man causing the stress.” She replied with a tired chuckle. 

His hand moved to cup her cheek, and she sat up just a little now to get closer. Their breaths were both heavy in anticipation. Someone needed to move, but they were both hesitant. 

He eventually decided to kiss her forehead. Then move down to place one on her cheek. Then he hovered right above her lips. 

God, this was killing her.

“Please.” She whispered breathlessly.

He smirked. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He murmured before leaning in to kiss her. 

They kissed, and their lips were in perfect alignment. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he went down to her hips, squeezing her closer. When he pulled her in, she couldn’t resist the little sound that came out of her, and that just drove him crazier. Their lips pressed against each other, and his nose exhaled hard, tickling her slightly. He smelled like a fresh batch of laundry and tasted like Diet Coke. She couldn’t help but run her hands through the back of his hair, which was a little obscene for a slightly public area. 

He pulled away first and put her forehead to his. “Sweetheart, if you keep that up, I’m gonna need a minute before I drive you home.” He let out a breathless laugh, and that caused her to as well.

After a moment, he pulled her in to rest her head on his shoulder. Her face kept in the crook of his neck. “This is bad.”

He craned his head down to look at her. “Why’s that?”

“I really like you.”

He chuckled, “God, I sure hoped so.” He said before planting a kiss on the crown of her hair.

After a drive filled with laughter and classic rock music, she didn’t want the date to end. Part of her was embarrassed that it took so long to get here. That possibly the man she had been waiting for had been under her stubborn nose the whole time. He put the Jeep in park. 

“Let me walk you to the door.” He said.

Are you… kidding me? She was used to men dropping her off and speeding away as soon as she shut the door. Their exhaust pipes smoking her and leaving her in the dust. But Jake was so surprisingly gentle. Yes, he was confident and cocky, but he treated her like she was royalty, and she almost feared getting used to it. What if things didn’t work out, and she’d have to go back to basketball shorts and axe body spray? But she silenced those anxieties in time for him to open her door and help her down from the side, as she clutched her newfound flowers. 

They walked up to her apartment in comfortable silence. The crickets chirped, and some horns honked in the deep distance. When they got to her door, she held the bouquet in her hands like a comfort item. 

“This is me…” She said, a little disappointed, staring at the ground. After a moment, she continued, “Look, I- I had a great time tonight. Don’t let it get to your head, but I’d love to do this again. But- but it’s totally fine if you don’t want to, or if I wasn’t what you expecte-”

He suddenly tilted her chin up and pressed his lips against hers. Her eyes were shot open, surprised, until she closed them, relaxing into the familiar kiss again.

“You off tomorrow?” He asked after he pulled away just so slightly.

“Got a morning shift, but I’m free after ten.” She answered way too quickly.

He smirked, “Lunch is on me then.” 

She kissed him again. There was no way she was going back to boys when she had a man like that in her arms. 

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Unlikely Hero

Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Fe!Reader -> You're in labour and nobody is picking up, so you're forced to call someone you never thought you would have to.

Disclaimer: Descriptions of labour and birth, Jake takes care of the reader and shows up for her when she needs him the most, really cute moment at the end, illusion to romantic feelings between Jake and the Reader, found family in the Dagger Squad. Not Proof Read.

Another contraction ripped through you. If you weren’t already white knuckling your kitchen counter, you would have been with this contraction. 

With a groan, you tried to remember your midwife’s advice. Lean into them, breathe and count. Lean into them, breathe and count. Lean into them. Breathe. Count. 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” You took a sharp breath in as you threw your phone onto the counter. 

“This is Bradley. Leave your message-”

You groaned and hung up, again. 

“Hey, this is Nat-” 

“You have reached the number of-”

Placing your elbows in front of you, you pressed the heels of your hands into your head as you leaned on the counter. Somebody - anybody had to be available. They weren’t on duty today. 

Lean into them, breathe, count. 

Lean into them, breath, count. 

Lean into them, breathe, breathe, breath, count, count, count, count.

You scrolled through your phone contacts. You couldn’t exactly call your family since they were states away. The only family you had close by were your friends. But none of them were picking up. 

Then you got to one of your contacts. 

You weren’t friends exactly but…when the time called for it…

Three rings. 

Four rings. 

Five rings. 

Six-

“Y/l/n?”

You practically cried out a sigh of relief. “Jake? Jake, please tell me that’s you and not your machine.”

“Yeah, it’s me. What’s up? Why are you calling me and not the others?”

“Because they’re not picking up.”

“They’re down at the beach. I was just heading there if you want me to-”

“No. No, no. I-I need you.”

Jake went silent. “What?”

Breathe. Count. Breath. Count.

“Listen, Y/n, I know me and you have been starting to get along and whatnot but-”

You let out a groan. “I’m in labour, Jackass.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit. Just-” Lean into it, breathe, count. “Can you please come here? I’ve called my midwife but she’s with someone else right now and…” You went quiet for a while. All Jake could hear were your deep breaths. “And I don’t want to do this alone. My contractions keep getting closer and I…”

“I’m on my way.” 

You could hear Jake rushing around his house, grabbing his jacket and his keys. “I’ll call the others and leave them a message. Hang on tight, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you.”

As Jake pulled away from his house, he called those who needed to know – leaving messages with all of them. He even called Amelia. 

“Where are you right now?”

“At the mall. Mom’s picking me up later.”

“I’ve left her a message but if you see her before let her know Y/n’s in labour.”

“She is?!”

“Yeah. I’ve left a message with the others but in case they don’t-”

Amelia nodded. “I’ll let them all know. Hey, tell her good luck for me.”

Jake smiled. “Will do, kiddo. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Ten minutes later, he pulled up outside of your house and ran in through the front door. 

“Y/n?”

“Kitchen!”

As he got inside, he found you hunched over the kitchen counter, your eyes closed, one hand on your stomach as your legs started to shake. 

“Okay, I’m here. I’m here.”

You reached out for him without thinking and with his forearms under yours, he helped support you as you stood up steady. 

“I’m sorry-”

Jake just shook his head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Now, what can I do?”

“Just stay with me.”

“I can do that.”

Over the next twenty minutes, Jake helped you walk down the hall in between each of your contractions. 

Then the shakes started. 

With you leaning over one side of your bed, Jake rounded the bed until he was on the other side and facing you. 

“I-I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

You shook your head, the shakes becoming more intense. Jake pulled his phone from his back pocket and opened it up as he kept his eye on you. He squeezed your hand. 

“No-o.”

Jake smiled at you. “You have seen every injury me and the Dagger Squad have gained in the last three years. You have dealt with a Hangry Rooster and a Pissed Off Phoenix. You can do this.”

It took you a minute but you finally agreed. “Wh-Who are you…” You tried to stop shaking. “Who are you calling?”

“Your midwife.”

“How do you have her number?”

“Penny gave it to us all, in case of an emergency.”

“She did?”

“Yeah.” Pressing the dial, Jake put his phone on speaker and laid it on the bed. Three rings and then she picked up. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Jake Seresin. Penny gave me your number for Y/n-”

“Ah, yes. Is everything okay?”

“Kinda. It’s just, Y/n’s in labour and she’s started shaking. It’s getting more intense.”

“Yes,” you midwife sounded calm. “That’s normal. It means she’s progressing nicely. I’m just finishing up with a new mom but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Then she hung up. 

“Soon as she can? The baby’ll be here before that.” Jake mumbled, annoyed, under his breath. But you heard every word and you laughed a little. 

Jake smiled, hearing your laugh. 

“Ooh, ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.” 

“Okay, it’s okay.” Jake held onto your hands firmly as you got hit with another contraction. 

Another thirty minutes passed. 

Jake had rubbed your back, walked you up and down your hallway corridor from the living room and kitchen and back to your room. He’d called the midwife three more times before she finally explained she was going to be later than usual since she had suddenly been called away to deal with an emergency home birth closer by. 

Once he’d helped you back onto your bed, your shakes started to get worse than ever until finally you had the feeling that you needed to push. 

“Push? Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I-I think so. I-I’ve never…had the feeling before but I feel like I need to push.”

All the colour drained from Jake’s face in an instant. “O-okay. Right, uh, what-what do I-”

“Jake! Jake! Y/n!”

Penny’s voice. 

You both relaxed at hearing her voice. 

Despite the colour draining from him, Jake would have helped you deliver your baby. You knew he would have done it. But the idea of it even worried you a little. For one, you’d both only recently gone from respectful mortal enemies to friends. You weren’t quite sure your friendship with him equated to him seeing everything. 

“Oh, thank god.” Jake turned towards the door. “Penny! We’re in here!”

There were more than just Penny’s footsteps as she came barreling down the hall. “I am so sorry. My phone has been on silent- Amelia told me when I picked her up-”

“It’s okay. You’re here now. But, I-I think I need to push.”

Mav came behind her, white as a sheet. “Don’t- Don’t you need a midwife for that?”

“We can do it.” 

He looked at his partner. “You can?”

“I did with Amelia.”

“You did?” 

“Uh, where is the midwife?” Bradley asked as he appeared behind both of them. 

Jake had his hands on his hips. “I’ve called her but she’s been pulled away somewhere else.”

Penny looked around and kicked everything into action. She gave instructions to Jake and Bradley but then you stopped them. 

“N-No. Jake, stay, Please.”

One look at you and he nodded. “I’m right here.” He took your hand in his. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Okay, Bradley, go and get Natasha. She’ll help you.”

After the momentary shock, Bradley called for Phoenix down the hallway and Penny clicked her fingers in front of Mav’s face to get his attention away from you and Jake and back onto what she was asking. 

“Are those two-”

“We can ask questions later, just go and get what I need.”

Then Penny turned back to you and Jake. “This is gonna feel really weird and incredibly painful, but I promise you, once we’ve got this baby in your arms, you’re gonna forget all about it.”

“Promise?”

Penny chuckled. “Promise.”

Within seconds, she had everything she needed. Penny slipped on a pair of gloves from your supply stock and had you bend your knees so she could check. 

“What? What is it?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, but you’re right about feeling like you want to push. Your baby is starting to crown.”

“They are?”

Penny nodded. 

“Okay, Mav, I need you to get the towels ready and-” He was turning whiter as the seconds rolled by. 

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Penny chuckled and took the towel from him and rested her ungloved hand on his shoulder as she led him out of the room. “It’s okay, go and get Natasha and tell her to come in here.”

Natasha walked inside your bedroom a few seconds later, the towel ready in her hands. 

“Hey, are you ready for this?”

“Nope.”

“You’ll do great.” 

As Penny and Phoenix focused on helping your baby, you turned to Jake. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Sweetheart. I’m right here.” The grip he shared in your hand tightened as his eyes fixed themselves to yours. “Promise.”

“Good.”

Then labour finally started to pick up. Jake remained by your side as he supported you and your back all the while Penny instructed you on when and when not to push. Phoenix gave you an excited running commentary about what was happening and what she could see as you gave birth. 

The excitement in her voice made you relax a little. 

“That’s it. Keep going. You’re doing amazing.” 

After almost an hour, and one final push, Penny and Phoenix were tying off and cutting the umbilical cord before cleaning off your baby and noting the time. 

“Welcome to the world, baby girl.”

Everyone was crying, including your daughter as she was passed over to you for the initial skin to skin contact. Meanwhile, you looked from your baby then to Jake. 

“You did it. I told you, you could.”

You smiled and leaned into the kiss he pressed onto your forehead. “Congrats, Momma.”

As Phoenix climbed across the bed from the otherside in order to cover you and your baby up with a fresh and soft towel, Penny helped with your placenta. 

Forty minutes and a check over from a nurse who lived a few streets away from you, who also knew Penny, you were sitting up in bed, holding onto your baby as she slept. 

“How are you feeling?”

Penny had given you and Jake a minute alone whilst she explained everything that Phoenix had excitedly ran through to the others. 

“Tired. And…incredible.” You couldn’t take your eyes from your daughter. “After all this time…she’s finally here and more beautiful than ever.”

Jake smiled as he looked at you, his eyes following yours before he finally looked back at you. “Just like her momma.”

The meaning behind his comment didn’t hit your ears until a few seconds later. You looked up at him and smiled. 

Then a small, soft knock came to your bedroom door. Reuben popped his head through the door. “Hey, feeling up for some visitors?”

You smiled. “Come on in, guys.”

Before you knew it, the whole Dagger Squad were entering your bedroom. 

“Jake?”

Without needing to say, Jake took your daughter from your arms before he stood up, Reuben standing in front of him, excited to hold your baby. 

“My god, Y/n. She’s gorgeous.” Carefully, Jake handed your daughter over to Reuben who held her securely in his arms before posing for the camera Penny was holding as she took more than a dozen pictures. 

“Hello, little one. Oh, my god. She’s holding my finger.” Payback smiled. “Okay, Rooster? Come on. You gotta hold her.”

Stepping around Phoenix, you smiled as you watched Reuben slowly hand your daughter over to Bradley. 

“She’s so small.”

Penny and Mav smiled. “It’s crazy to think you were that size once.”

The others laughed, as did Rooster. 

As your baby was passed to each person, Reuben came by your side and laid a hand on your shoulder before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Want me to get you anything? Sushi? Big Mac?” Rooster asked. 

Before you could answer, Penny spoke up just as she took a photo of Mav holding onto your baby. 

“Wait, wait, wait. We need a big family photo. Come on.”

Thankfully, the sheets had been changed. So, handing your baby back to you, you pressed a few kisses to her head as the others all got situated and directed on where to sit before Penny finally rested the camera on top of the dresser and set a timer. 

As you leaned forward, Jake placed his arm around you to allow you to get more comfortable. Phoenix sat beside you, Payback behind her, Fanboy was beside him along with Bob. Rooster and Coyote as well as Mav were beside Jake. Amelia was slotted in between Jake and Rooster before Penny finally rushed around to kneel behind Fanboy. 

The camera finally flashed, everyone’s smiles being captured in the picture. 

Not long after that, Rooster and Jake headed out of the door to go and pick up your food of choice. The others helped clean your home in the places you weren’t physically able to reach when you were pregnant whilst Penny closed the bedroom door and helped you with latching and breastfeeding. 

A half hour later, Jake and Rooster walked back inside with three shopping bags each as well as the food. 

“We went in to get you some extra things to help and I found this. I couldn’t not.” Bradley pulled it out of the bag and showed you. It was a onesie with the saying “Co-pilot in Training.”

You smiled. “Oh, my god.”

As people started getting up and getting food, Jake brought yours over to you. “Here you go.”

“Oh, my. You’re a saint. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Jake smiled. “I got her something, too.”

“Jake, you didn’t have to-”

He just smiled and spoke softly as the others started to divvy up the food. 

“I know. But I wanted to.” Then he pulled it from behind him. And you were in shock. 

“Oh, my god. How the hell did you find this?”

Jake smiled as he passed it over to you. “Whilst Rooster was getting lost in the clothing section, I asked one of the workers if they had any old stock.”

You felt yourself cry a little, out of sheer happiness. Jake smiled and wiped away the tears with the back of his finger. 

“This is incredible. Thank you.”

Jake smiled. “Anything for you and the kid.”

You held onto his hand. “I mean it, Jake. Thank you.”

Holding onto your hand, he smiled before leaning down and pressing a kiss into the back of your hand. 

What he had bought was the very same baby blanket he’d walked in on you researching one afternoon in the medical wing at the base. It was one you’d owned when you were a baby but the company had stopped making the pattern years ago. But, when they brought out a ‘Throwback’ stock, you searched every store to try and find the same one. 

But each store had been sold out. 

“Eat up, I’ll be back in a minute.”

From the sofa, your eyes looked from Jake to the blanket, to your daughter before looking over at Jake. And he looked back over his shoulder to you and smiled at you from the kitchen. 

Little did you know, two years on, you’d be lying on the sofa watching Jake and your daughter make you a Mother’s Day breakfast together, trying their best not to wake you up before eight in the morning. 

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

The Nerd and the Nuisance

bob floyd x Fem!Aviator!Reader

call sign: peaches (don’t ask)

oh, smut warning.

The midday sun bakes the tarmac like it’s on a mission. Tank tops are sticking, aviators are sweating, and someone in the back is definitely skipping reps.

Peaches? Not her. She’s got her hair slicked back, her sports bra peeking out under her loose-cut Navy PT shirt, and a smirk on her lips like she knows she looks real good dropping into those push-ups.

Because she does.

“Hey, Peaches!” someone hollers from across the makeshift training circuit. Probably Fanboy. “You tryna win the Olympics or something?”

She doesn’t even look up. “Nah, just showing off for the right audience.”

That earns a chorus of “OOOH—”s, and Payback practically wheezes with laughter.

That’s when Hangman struts over. Gray shirt damp with sweat, dog tags sticking to his chest, that smug-ass smile already locked and loaded.

“You know,” he says, eyeing her like he’s about to make it weird — because he is, “it’s really distracting when you do squats that good.”

Peaches snorts. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even break rhythm. “Oh no, Jake. You want me to take it slower? Would that help you concentrate?”

“Oof.” Fanboy’s nearby, nearly falling off the pull-up bar.

Hangman grins. “You keep talking like that and I will take you home.”

That’s when she finishes the set, stands, and wipes sweat from her neck — slow, teasing — before stepping into Jake’s space like she owns it.

Her voice drops. Everyone’s suddenly paying attention.

“Hangman… just take me home. Right now.”

Silence.

A beat passes. Jake actually looks stunned — eyes flicking between her mouth and her eyes like he can’t tell if she’s serious or not.

She leans in closer, just enough to make him lose whatever thought he had next.

Then she grins.

“Nah.”

She taps his chest with one finger and walks off toward the locker room, grabbing her water bottle without even glancing back.

Fanboy yells, “SHE’S COLD FOR THAT,” while Coyote and Payback are losing their minds in the background.

Hangman just stands there like a man who just got emotionally body slammed — again.

⸻

That Night – The Hard Deck

Music. Laughter. Pool games. Something dangerously tequila-flavored in her glass.

Peaches is sitting with Phoenix and Halo, laughing at something Payback just said when her eyes wander across the bar — and then freeze.

There he is.

Bob.

He’s tucked into a corner seat. Not playing pool, not part of the crowd. Just sipping soda and eating sunflower seeds out of a little paper napkin. The shells are piling on his pants and he’s brushing them off like a quiet little ritual. Not messy — just Bob.

And then he does it — he looks up.

Eyes meet.

And he smiles.

Not cocky. Not calculated. Just soft and shy and real.

“Hey, Peaches.”

She blinks.

Oh no.

She’s seen Bob before — but this is the first time she’s really seen him.

That quiet confidence. That messy, soft thing about him.

The way he’s not performing.

The way that one smile just hit harder than any of Hangman’s lines.

Peaches feels her throat go dry.

For the first time maybe ever, she looks away first.

And that’s when it hits her:

She doesn’t want to flirt with Bob.

She wants to get to know him.

…And maybe ruin him a little along the way.

———

Peaches shows up to the Hard Deck the next night — because patience isn’t her thing when she’s got a mission. And baby, she is on a mission.

The outfit?

Dangerous.

Cute little crop top (but not too obvious), low-rise jeans that fit like a sin, and the kind of gloss that makes her lips look expensive. Hair done. Skin glowing. Eyes sharp.

Phoenix raises a brow the moment she sees her.

“Oh no. Who’s the target?”

Peaches smiles, slow and smug. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The team’s gathered around a pool table again — Hangman already mid-story, Payback laughing too loud, and Bob?

Bob is in the exact same seat. Same posture. Same quiet little energy.

He’s sipping a ginger ale this time, fiddling with a coaster. Glasses slipping down his nose. Cute as hell.

Peaches makes her move.

She doesn’t even pretend to hesitate. Walks right past Hangman mid-sentence, drops into the seat next to Bob like she owns the bar.

“Hey, sweet thing,” she says, voice smooth like honey left out in the sun.

Bob looks up — startled, pink creeping up his neck.

“H-hey, Peaches.”

“Didn’t know you were out tonight.”

He nods, trying not to stare at her neckline. “Just… needed a break from reading.”

Peaches rests her elbow on the table, leaning in juuust enough. “What were you reading?”

Bob blinks. “Uh. ‘The Right Stuff.’ Again.”

She smirks. “Mmm. Nothing sexier than a man who rereads aviation history for fun.”

Bob makes a sound in his throat like his brain just hit a firewall. His hands twitch nervously on the glass.

Peaches notices. She always notices.

“You okay there, Floyd?” she murmurs, voice lower now. Private. Just for him.

He swallows. “Yeah, I just—uh—you look… nice tonight.”

She pretends to be surprised. “You think?”

Then she touches his knee.

Light. Casual. Deadly.

Bob’s entire soul leaves his body.

Peaches leans in closer, her voice dipped in velvet:

“I like a man with a strong mind… and soft hands.”

The glass in his hand nearly slips.

Phoenix is watching from across the room like she’s witnessing a full-blown psychological takedown. Hangman’s mid-joke and completely misses the way Bob’s ears turn red.

Peaches stands up after a few more minutes — just enough time to short-circuit him but not enough to let him adjust.

She lets her fingers drag across his shoulder as she walks away, saying:

“See you around, Bobby.”

And as she disappears toward the bar, she knows — without even looking back — that he’s watching her like she just flipped his whole universe upside down.

Which, to be fair… she did.

———

Bob is a simple man.

He likes clean lines, vintage jets, sunflower seeds, and peace.

Peaches is none of those things.

It’s three days after the Hard Deck Incident™ and this man has replayed her voice saying “sweet thing” about 87 times.

It’s haunting him. She touched his knee. She whispered in his ear. He hasn’t known peace since.

And today?

Today she shows up in one of those oversized academy sweatshirts — the kind that’s just long enough to cover her shorts, hair up in a bun, water bottle slung on one hip.

She looks like a problem.

Bob sees her across the hangar and turns around so fast he almost smacks into Phoenix.

“Easy there, loverboy,” she laughs, catching his elbow.

He adjusts his glasses. “I’m—she’s—uh.”

“She’s gonna eat you alive,” Phoenix says flatly, then pats his shoulder. “But don’t worry. You’ll like it.”

⸻

In the Ready Room

They’re reviewing dogfight footage. Everyone’s seated, bored, half-listening — except Peaches, who chooses right then to plop down next to Bob.

Close. Too close.

Her thigh touches his. On purpose. And when he shifts like his skin’s on fire, she just smiles sweetly and leans into his ear.

“You smell good.”

Bob is convinced he’s hallucinating.

“W-what?”

She leans back, expression innocent. “Did I stutter, Floyd?”

The ready room is dark. The projector’s humming. And Bob?

Bob is fighting for his life.

When the footage ends and Maverick dismisses them, everyone stands — except Bob, who’s trying to casually hide the war crime going on in his pants.

Peaches? She notices. Of course she does.

“Walk me to my locker?” she asks, sweet and deadly.

He nods.

⸻

In the Hallway

They walk in silence for a second. She’s swinging her water bottle. He’s calculating how many Hail Marys he needs to say to survive this.

And then she stops walking.

Just turns around, stands right in front of him — chest to chest, breath to breath.

“You know I’m not messing with you, right?”

Bob looks like she just spoke in code. “What?”

She tilts her head. “I don’t do this with just anybody, Floyd. I flirt with Hangman. I banter with Coyote. I clown with Fanboy.”

She steps closer.

“But you…?”

She slides her fingers into his front pocket. His front pocket.

“You’re the one I want.”

Bob’s soul literally leaves the building.

“P-Peaches…”

She rises on her toes, lips brushing his ear.

“If you want me to stop, say so.”

He doesn’t.

She kisses his cheek, slow, deliberate, claiming. And then turns on her heel and walks off like she didn’t just end this man’s entire nervous system.

Bob stands there, in the middle of the hallway, one hand gripping the pocket she touched, whispering to himself:

“She’s gonna be the death of me.”

———

Peaches walks into the Hard Deck on a Friday night with one goal:

Lock in the mission. Secure the nerd. #OperationFreakifyFloyd is now live.

And she looks so good it’s rude.

Sundress. Curls done. Earrings swinging. Smells like vanilla and danger.

The squad’s already at the usual table — Payback and Fanboy fighting over pool, Hangman trying to impress a group of tourists, Phoenix sipping her beer and watching the chaos.

And Bob? He’s at the corner of the table, drink in hand, glasses on, wearing a soft navy hoodie she’s never seen him in before. He’s clean-shaven. Neatly put together.

He’s perfect. And he’s hers. He just doesn’t know it yet.

She doesn’t ask. She doesn’t wait. She slides right into the seat next to him, so close their arms touch, and drops her voice:

“That seat’s taken, baby.”

Bob nearly spills his drink.

“P-Peaches.”

She smirks. “You nervous?”

“I just… you smell really good.”

She leans in, slow and smooth. “You can tell me that with your chest, Floyd.”

Bob’s cheeks go pink. “You smell really good.”

Peaches grins.

⸻

Cue Hangman

Because of course.

He saunters over, drink in hand, cocky grin locked and loaded. “Well, if it ain’t the deadliest duo. Mind if I—”

Peaches cuts him off without looking.

“Not tonight, Jake.”

Hangman blinks. “Oh. We’re doing this now?”

She finally turns. “You flirt like a frat boy. Bob makes me nervous.”

The entire table goes silent. Like, cartoon-record-scratch silent.

Payback whispers, “Did she say Bob makes her nervous?”

Fanboy says, ��Like in a good way or a restraining order way?”

Phoenix leans across the table, smirking. “So… what are we calling this?”

Peaches just tilts her head, eyes still locked on Bob. “We’re calling it ‘none of y’all’s business’.”

Bob chokes on air.

⸻

Later That Night

They’re walking side-by-side down the beach — far enough from the group that their voices are private. The moon is up. The breeze is soft. And Bob’s still blushing like it’s a medical condition.

He says, out of nowhere: “I don’t get it.”

Peaches stops. “What?”

“You could have literally anyone. And you’re… flirting with me.”

She blinks. Then smiles. Slow. Dangerous.

“I don’t want anyone else, Bob.”

He looks at her — really looks at her — and she swears his eyes go all soft and shiny like he’s seeing her for the first time.

“I think about you all the time,” he admits quietly.

That does something to her chest. Something warm and terrible.

She takes his hand, presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.”

———

It starts after a long, sweaty, brain-meltingly difficult training op.

Everyone’s exhausted. Shirts damp. Dog tags sticking to collarbones. The kind of day where people groan just standing up.

Bob’s sitting on the ground, post-flight, peeling off his gloves, flushed and glowing in the kind of way that should be illegal. His hair’s a mess. He’s breathing heavy. Glasses sliding down his nose. And Peaches?

She is salivating.

Phoenix: “You good?”

Peaches: “No. But I will be.”

She watches him like a hawk — the way his long fingers work, the little huff he makes when he can’t find his water bottle. She wants to bite his shoulder.

⸻

In the Locker Hall

Everyone’s scattered. Showers on. Music playing somewhere faint in the background.

Bob’s in the hallway, fumbling with the lock on his locker when Peaches appears out of nowhere.

“Boo.”

Bob jumps. “Jesus—!”

Peaches grins, wicked. “Hi, baby.”

His eyes dart around. “You—you can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

“Oh? But it’s fun.” She leans against the lockers, arms folded under her chest, head tilted. “You looked good out there today.”

Bob swallows. “Thanks. You, uh, always do.”

She narrows her eyes. “You still nervous around me?”

He laughs — soft, sheepish. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“Even after everything?” she asks.

He nods. “Especially after everything.”

Peaches steps in. Real close. So close he forgets how to breathe.

“Then I guess we better rip the Band-Aid off, huh?”

And she kisses him.

Hard. Hot. Hands sliding into his hair. She doesn’t ask. Doesn’t wait. She takes — mouth open, warm, possessive — and Bob? He whimpers. Full-body, knee-weakening whimpers. His hands hover like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

So she grabs his wrists and puts them on her waist.

“Hold me like you mean it, Bob.”

And he does.

They kiss like the world is ending. Like he’s been starving for this. When she pulls away — finally, reluctantly — he looks dazed.

“You okay?” she asks.

He nods, breathless. “I—I saw God.”

⸻

OUTSIDE. TEN MINUTES LATER.

They try to act casual as they rejoin the group. But their hair’s a little messy. Bob’s shirt is misbuttoned. Her lip gloss is missing in action.

Phoenix clocks it immediately. So does Fanboy. So does literally everyone.

Payback: “Why is Bob walking like he forgot how knees work?”

Coyote: “Why does Peaches look like the cat that ate the whole damn canary?”

Hangman: sniffing the air “Do I smell sin?”

Peaches smirks, tossing her hair. “Mind your business, boys.”

But Bob? Ohhh Bob is glowing. Can’t stop smiling. Keeps looking at her like she hung the damn stars. When she walks by and squeezes his hand, he almost trips over his own feet.

———

It starts at Bob’s place.

Not because Peaches was invited. Not really.

She just… kinda followed him home.

“You hungry?”

“A little.”

“…You wanna come in?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

She walks in, drops her purse by the door, and immediately throws herself on his couch like she’s lived there for years. Legs kicked up, head tilted back, sighing like a queen after battle.

“This your place, huh?”

“Yup.”

“It’s cute. Just like you.”

“…Oh boy.”

Bob’s ears turn red. Bright red. He turns toward the kitchen. “You like pasta?”

“Do I like—Bob. I’m half pasta.”

⸻

In the Kitchen

He’s cooking. Real food. Homemade sauce. The man has a wooden spoon and everything.

And Peaches?

She’s in his hoodie. Big. Soft. Smells like detergent and cologne and him. She pulled it from a hook behind the door like she had a right to it — like it was already hers.

“You smell like me now,” he says under his breath.

“Good,” she purrs, hugging herself. “I want your scent all over me.”

Bob drops the spoon.

“Jesus, Peaches.”

“What?” she says innocently, hopping up to sit on the counter. “I’m just telling the truth.”

He’s trying so hard to keep it together. But the way she’s swinging her legs, biting her lip, looking at him like he’s the main course? Yeah. He’s barely holding on.

And then—

She pulls him in by the waistband of his pants.

She kisses his cheek.

And whispers, “I’m falling for you, Bob Floyd.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Bob’s breath caught, his hands coming up to rest on her hips as if to steady himself. He was shy, always had been, but in that moment, shyness felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford.

“Peaches—” he started, his voice rough, but she cut him off with another kiss, this one firmer, more insistent. Her lips moved against his, hungry and demanding, and he felt himself surrendering to her, piece by piece.

“Don’t say anything,” she murmured against his lips. “Just come with me.”

She led him out of the kitchen, her grip on his waistband never faltering. The hoodie fell from her shoulders as they moved, pooling on the floor like a discarded promise. Bob’s heart pounded in his chest, a steady rhythm that matched the urgency in her touch.

His room was sparse, functional, like the rest of his apartment. A bed, a dresser, a few framed photos of planes and the ocean. Peaches pushed him back until his knees hit the mattress, and he fell onto it with a soft thud. She followed, straddling his hips, her hands tangling in his hair as she kissed him deeply.

Bob’s shyness melted under her touch. His hands moved up her back, tracing the curve of her spine, the softness of her skin. She was warm, alive, and he felt himself surrendering to her, piece by piece.

“Slow,” he murmured against her lips, his voice hoarse. “Let’s take it slow.”

Peaches smiled, a soft, knowing curve of her lips. “For you, Bob. Anything.”

They moved together, their bodies fitting perfectly, as if they’d been designed for this moment. Bob’s hands roamed her body, memorizing every curve, every dip. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples tight and responsive under his touch. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, his lips trailing down to her breasts, where he lingered, tasting her, savoring her.

She moaned softly, her head tipping back as he suckled gently, his tongue swirling around her sensitive peaks. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging in as she arched into him.

“Bob,” she whispered, her voice thick with need. “I want you. Now.”

He looked up at her, his glasses askew, his expression tender. “Missionary,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “Let me make you feel good.”

She nodded, her eyes locked on his as he shifted, moving her back until she lay beneath him. He propped himself up on his elbows, his hands framing her face as he kissed her again, slow and deep. Their bodies moved in sync, his hips rocking gently against hers as he entered her. She was tight, wet, and he groaned at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the feeling of being inside her.

“Bob,” she breathed, her hands gripping his hips, guiding him. “Deeper. Harder.”

He obliged, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through them both. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into his back as she met his movements, her body rising to meet his.

The room was filled with the sounds of their labored breathing, the soft creak of the bed, and the occasional muffled moan. Bob’s glasses fogged up, but he didn’t care, his focus entirely on the woman beneath him.

“Peaches,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he felt himself nearing the edge. “I’m close.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Me too. But I’m not done yet.”

Before he could respond, she flipped them, her body now on top of his. Her hair fell around her face like a curtain as she straddled him, her hands on his chest for leverage. She moved faster now, her hips rolling in a rhythm that was both urgent and deliberate.

Bob’s hands came up to her waist, his fingers digging into her skin as he watched her, mesmerized. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her nipples tight and rosy. He reached up, cupping one in his hand, his thumb brushing over the peak as she rode him.

“Bob,” she gasped, her head falling back as she quickened her pace. “Fuck, that feels good.”

He groaned, his hands moving to her throat, his thumbs brushing her pulse point. She grabbed his wrist, guiding his hand, her eyes locking with his.

“Harder,” she begged, her voice raw. “Please, Bob. I need it.”

He hesitated, his shyness warring with his desire to please her. But the look in her eyes—the trust, the need—was too much to resist. He applied a little pressure, his thumb pressing into the tender skin of her throat. 

Peaches moaned, her body tightening around him as she threw her head back, her hair cascading over her shoulders. Her hips moved faster, her movements frantic as she chased her release.

“Bob,” she cried, her voice breaking as her body shook with her orgasm. “Oh fuck, Bob—”

Her walls clenched around him, milking him, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hips bucked up to meet her, his hands tightening on her throat as he spilled into her, his groan echoing in the small room.

For a moment, they stayed like that, their bodies still joined, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Then, slowly, Peaches collapsed onto his chest, her hair tickling his neck as she caught her breath.

Bob’s hands moved to her back, stroking gently as he kissed the top of her head. 

———

It’s movie night on base. The whole squad’s packed into the rec room—blankets, pillows, snack bowls, someone brought a projector. It’s chaos in the best way.

And Peaches? She shows up late. In a hoodie.

But not just any hoodie.

It’s Bob’s hoodie.

Big. Navy blue. Smells like his cologne. Drowns her in fabric.

And when she walks in?

The room goes SILENT for a second.

“Ayo,” says Payback. “No way.”

“That’s Floyd’s hoodie, right?” whispers Fanboy.

Phoenix just grins like the devil.

Hangman literally chokes on a Red Vine.

Peaches acts like nothing’s different. Tosses her hair, flops down next to Bob, and grabs some popcorn like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.

But Bob? Bob is MALFUNCTIONING.

His cheeks go bright pink. His fingers twitch. He keeps staring at her like he can’t believe his hoodie’s hugging all the parts of her he’s not brave enough to touch yet.

“You wore it,” he says softly, voice just for her.

“I didn’t feel like picking an outfit,” Peaches shrugs, sipping her soda. “Plus, I missed your smell.”

“…My smell?”

“Yeah. You smell like safety.”

“…What does that even mean?”

“Means I like it. Means I like you.”

Bob’s ears go red so fast she thinks steam might shoot out of them.

⸻

HALF AN HOUR LATER.

They’re under a shared blanket. Her legs tangled in his. His arm is around her shoulders.

On screen, some action movie is playing—but nobody’s watching.

Especially not Bob.

He’s watching her.

The way she dips her head on his shoulder. The way her fingers lightly trace over his forearm.

He’s so aware of her it’s painful. And when her hand brushes over his thigh—purely innocent—

Bob gasps.

“You okay?” she asks, all doe eyes.

“Peaches…”

“What?” she smiles, fake innocent.

“You’re driving me insane.”

“I know.”

Her voice drops, teasing.

“You gonna do something about it?”

The room seemed to shrink around them, the noise of the squad fading into the background. Bob’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of frustration and desire. He knew better than to engage with her here, in front of everyone, but Peaches had a way of making him forget his better judgment.

“Come with me,” he said, standing abruptly. He grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet before she could protest. The squad barely noticed their departure, too engrossed in their own chaos.

The locker room was dimly lit, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead. The air smelled of sweat and soap, a familiar scent that grounded Bob even as his pulse raced. He pushed the door closed behind them, locking it with a sharp click. 

Peaches leaned against the wall, her eyes locked on his, that same teasing smile playing on her lips.

“What now?” she asked, her voice low and challenging.

Bob didn’t answer. He crossed the space between them in two long strides, his hands gripping her hips as he pressed her against the cold metal lockers. The hoodie bunched between them, but he didn’t care. He needed her, needed this, and he wasn’t going to hold back.

“Bob—” she started, but he cut her off with a kiss, rough and desperate. His lips crashed against hers, his tongue demanding entry. She tasted like salt and sugar, and he groaned, his hands sliding up her sides to grip her shoulders.

Peaches wrapped her arms around his neck, her nails digging into his skin as she kissed him back with equal fervor. She was always so responsive, so eager, and it only fueled his desire. He pulled back slightly, his breath coming in short gasps.

“You’re wearing my hoodie,” he growled, his voice rough.

“So?” she smirked, her eyes daring him to do something about it

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hands fisted in the fabric, tugging it up and over her head in one swift motion. She gasped, her breath catching as the hoodie fell to the floor. She was wearing nothing underneath, her skin pale and smooth in the dim light.

Bob’s gaze lingered on her, taking in the curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the way her nipples tightened under his scrutiny. He wanted to touch her, taste her, claim her in every way possible. But Peaches wasn’t one to wait around. 

She stepped forward, pressing her body against his. Her hands slid down his chest, slipping under the hem of his shirt. “Your turn,” she murmured, her lips brushing his ear.

He shivered at her touch, his shirt joining the hoodie on the floor in seconds. Peaches’s fingers traced the muscles of his abdomen, her touch light but deliberate. She knew exactly where to touch him, how to make him ache for her.

“Peaches—” he started, but she silenced him with another kiss, her hands moving lower, slipping into the waistband of his pants.

He hissed as her fingers brushed his erection, her touch sending sparks of pleasure through his body. “Not yet,” he managed, his voice hoarse. He wanted this to last, wanted to savor every moment with her.

She smirked, her eyes glinting with challenge. “Who’s in control here, Lieutenant?”

Bob’s grip on her hips tightened, his thumbs digging into her skin. “You’re pushing it,” he warned, though his voice lacked conviction.

Peaches laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down his spine. She stepped back, her hands moving to the button of her jeans. “Catch me if you can,” she teased, before shimmying out of them.

Bob’s breath caught at the sight of her, standing there in nothing but her lace panties. Her body was a work of art, every curve and line designed to drive him mad. He took a step forward, his hands reaching for her, but she danced out of his grasp, her laughter echoing through the locker room.

“Peaches—” he growled, his patience wearing thin

She stopped, turning to face him, her hands on her hips. “What’s the matter, Bob? Can’t keep up?”

Something snapped inside him. He lunged, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her onto the nearest bench. She gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed her down. “Who’s in control now?” he asked, his voice dark with desire.

Peaches’s smirk faltered, just for a moment, before she leaned up to nip at his ear. “You are,” she whispered, her hands tangling in his hair. “But don’t think I’m going to make it easy for you.”

Bob didn’t respond. He kissed her fiercely, his hands roaming over her body, mapping every inch of her skin. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of her panties, tugging them down her legs. She kicked them off, her legs wrapping tighter around him as he ground his hips against hers.

“Bob,” she moaned, her head falling

back as he kissed a path down her neck. “Please.”

He smirked against her skin, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs. “Beg,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. 

Peaches’s eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting on a soft whimper. “Please, Bob,” she whispered. “I need you.”

That was all he needed to hear. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a condom with practiced ease. He sheathed himself quickly, his hands trembling with anticipation. Peaches watched him, her eyes dark with desire, her breath coming in short gasps. 

“Ready?” he asked, his voice rough.

She nodded, her hands gripping his shoulders. “Fuck me, Bob. Hard.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He positioned himself at her entrance, teasing her with slow, shallow thrusts before slamming into her with a force that made her cry out. The sound was music to his ears, and he set a relentless pace, his hips snapping against hers as he filled her completely.

Peaches met his thrusts with equal fervor, her nails digging into his back as she arched her hips to meet him. Her moans filled the locker room, loud and uninhibited, and Bob lost himself in the sensation of her tight heat surrounding him.

He reached between them, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing firm circles. She gasped, her walls clenching around him as she teetered on the edge. “Bob—I’m close,” she panted, her voice strained.

“Not yet,” he growled, his grip on her hips tightening. He pulled her closer, his thrusts becoming sharper, more urgent. He wanted to push her further, to see just how far she could go.

Peaches’s head fell back, her mouth open on a silent cry as he slid a hand into her hair, tilting her head back. “Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding.

Her eyes met his, dark and glazed with desire. “Bob—”

He didn’t give her a chance to finish. His free hand wrapped around her throat, his thumb pressing into her windpipe just enough to restrict her airflow. She gasped, her eyes widening as her breath hitched.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper. “Feel it, Peaches. Feel how much I want you.”

Her hands flew to his wrist, her fingers trembling as she held on. “Bob—I—”

He thrust harder, his grip on her throat tightening just enough to make her squirm. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice dark with need. “Say you’re mine.”

Peaches’s eyes fluttered closed, her body trembling on the edge of release. 

“Yours,” she choked out, her voice barely audible. “I’m yours, Bob. Please—”

That was all he needed. He released her throat, his hand sliding down to grip her hip as he drove into her with abandon. Her walls clenched around him, her body shaking as she cried out, her release washing over her in waves.

Bob followed soon after, his own orgasm crashing into him with a force that left him breathless. He buried his face in her neck, his body trembling as he spilled into the condom.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their hearts pounding in unison, their breaths mingling. Bob’s hands slid down to rest on her hips, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin.

Peaches’s arms tightened around him, her lips pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “That was—”

“Not enough,” Bob finished, his voice low and teasing. He pulled back, his eyes meeting hers. “We’re not done yet.”

Her eyebrows rose, a challenge in her gaze. “Oh? And what did you have in mind, Lieutenant?”

Bob smirked, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs. “Turn around,” he murmured, his voice dark with promise.

Peaches’s eyes widened, just for a moment, before she complied, her body shifting to face away from him. She braced her hands on the bench, her breath coming in short gasps as she arched her back.

Bob’s gaze lingered on the curve of her spine, the way her hair fell in waves down her back. He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her shoulder before sliding down to grip her hip. 

“Ready?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

She nodded, her voice barely audible. “Yes.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he slid into her from behind. She gasped, her head falling back as he filled her completely.

“Bob—” she moaned, her voice strained.

“Hold on,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. He set a slow, deliberate pace, his thrusts deep and controlled. He wanted to make this last, to savor every moment with her.

Peaches’s hands gripped the edge of the bench, her knuckles white as she met his thrusts with equal fervor. Her moans filled the locker room, loud and uninhibited, and Bob lost himself in the sensation of her tight heat surrounding him.

He reached around, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing firm circles. She gasped, her walls clenching around him as she teetered on the edge. “Bob—I’m close,” she panted, her voice strained. 

“Come for me,” he growled, his grip on her hips tightening. He pulled her closer, his thrusts becoming sharper, more urgent. He wanted to push her over the edge, to feel her release around him.

Peaches cried out, her body trembling as she came apart beneath him. Her walls clenched around him, milking him as she rode out her orgasm. Bob followed soon after, his own release crashing into him with a force that left him breathless.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their hearts pounding in unison, their breaths mingling. Bob’s hands slid down to rest on her hips, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her skin.

Peaches turned to face him, her lips curving into a soft smile. “That was—”

Bob silenced her with a kiss, his lips pressing firmly against hers. “Not done yet,” he murmured against her mouth.

Her eyebrows rose, a challenge in her gaze. “Oh? And what else do you have planned, Lieutenant?”

Bob smirked, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs. He pulled her closer, his lips brushing her ear. “I think it’s time for a little role reversal,”he whispered, his voice dark with promise.

Peaches’s eyes widened, just for a moment, before a slow smile spread across her face. “Oh? And what makes you think you can handle it?”

Bob’s smirk widened, his hands sliding up to grip her hips. “Only one way to find out,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. 

Peaches laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down his spine. She pushed him back, her hands on his chest as she stepped away. “On your back, Lieutenant,” she commanded, her voice firm.

Bob raised an eyebrow, a challenge in his gaze. “You sure about that, Peaches?”

She smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure,” she purred. “Now, on your back.”

Bob hesitated, just for a moment, before complying. He lay down on the bench, his hands behind his head as he watched her with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation

Peaches moved to stand between his legs, her hands on her hips as she 

looked down at him. “Comfortable?” 

she asked, her voice low and teasing.

“As long as you are,” he replied, his voice steady.

Bob’s gaze lingered on her, taking in the way her hips swayed, the way her breasts moved with each breath.

“Peaches—” he started, but she silenced him with a kiss, her lips pressing firmly against his.

She pulled back, her eyes locked on his, her smile triumphant. “My turn,”she murmured, her voice dark with promise.

Bob’s breath caught as she sank to her knees, her hands gripping his thighs as she leaned in. Her lips brushed the head of his cock, her breath warm against his skin. He shivered, his hands tangling in her hair as she looked up at him, her eyes daring him to stop her.

“Peaches—” he managed, his voice hoarse.

She smirked, her tongue flicking out to taste him. “Shh,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “Just enjoy the ride, Lieutenant.”

Bob’s eyes fluttered closed as her lips closed around him, her mouth warm and wet. She took him deep, her tongue swirling around the head as she hummed in approval. 

He groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily as she began to move, her mouth working its magic.

She was relentless, her lips and tongue driving him to the brink. Her hands gripped his thighs, her nails digging into his skin as she took control. 

Bob’s hands fisted in her hair, his hips thrusting into her mouth as he lost himself in the sensation.

“Peaches—I’m close,” he panted, his voice strained.

She pulled back, her eyes locked on his, her smile mischievous. “Not yet,”she murmured, her voice low and teasing.

“Yo!”

Payback’s voice. Loud. Too close.

“You left your phone in the hangar, Bob. Phoenix said you might be in here—”

Peaches freezes.

Bob practically jumps out of his own skin.

“Shit,” she whispers.

“Oh my God,” Bob wheezes, trying to find his shirt, his soul, and maybe the Holy Spirit.

“We were so close,” she mutters, genuinely heartbroken. “I was gonna ruin you.”

“I know,” he gasps. “I know.”

Another knock.

“You guys decent?”

“No!” Bob yells. “I mean—yes! I mean—don’t come in!”

Peaches is dying laughing, holding her stomach, collapsed on the bench in just her sports bra and smudged lip gloss.

“Bobby Floyd,” she giggles, “you’re gonna need a cold shower and a prayer.”

“I need an exorcism,” he mutters.

They scramble to fix themselves—clothes adjusted, faces flushed, hearts racing.

As Payback walks away, clearly suspicious, Peaches leans in close and whispers:

“You owe me, Floyd.”

“I owe you everything,” he breathes.